10-19-2018, 12:11 PM
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Her ears flicked back. So a fight then. Keona's heart slammed into her chest. From day one, the child had veiwed fighting as a less than ideal situation. Something to avoid. The stryker was no physical combatant. They're not giving us a choice. Fight or stay and suffer the consequences. Not an option. The faerie lowered herself, ready.
Her eyes useless, but her hearing and sense of vibration... Excelled. She barely heard her uncle's warning, this time purposely surrounding herself with powerful gusts of wind as a shield. Unfortunately, Keona had not a single clue what to do now, simply urging it to continue spinning around herself. A small tornado. No doubt sending sand in all directions. "I said go away!" She hissed, rerouting the small funnel of air straight for [member=2591];;bryn harbringer[/member]. Not an entirely stable... Creation. By all accounts, the odds of the windstorm veering off course - and potentially causing problems for the other two - were somewhat high. Keona's aim significantly depended on her sense of hearing and smell.
Successful or not, the child readied herself for more. Her fur stood on end, limbs unsteady. Already, the tiny feline felt herself wavering. What had she done exactly? Her father or uncle had never done anything like it... Focus. This did not end until they escaped. Alive. Home. She barely considered her uncle's, brows creasing in confusion briefly before placing the entirity of her focus on Bryn. . . . Rain?
Her eyes useless, but her hearing and sense of vibration... Excelled. She barely heard her uncle's warning, this time purposely surrounding herself with powerful gusts of wind as a shield. Unfortunately, Keona had not a single clue what to do now, simply urging it to continue spinning around herself. A small tornado. No doubt sending sand in all directions. "I said go away!" She hissed, rerouting the small funnel of air straight for [member=2591];;bryn harbringer[/member]. Not an entirely stable... Creation. By all accounts, the odds of the windstorm veering off course - and potentially causing problems for the other two - were somewhat high. Keona's aim significantly depended on her sense of hearing and smell.
Successful or not, the child readied herself for more. Her fur stood on end, limbs unsteady. Already, the tiny feline felt herself wavering. What had she done exactly? Her father or uncle had never done anything like it... Focus. This did not end until they escaped. Alive. Home. She barely considered her uncle's, brows creasing in confusion briefly before placing the entirity of her focus on Bryn. . . . Rain?
tá mé i dtiúin — ✯