bloodstones - Lyra Battle Challenge: an idiot's mantle - 423 words

5. Draw or write about your character taking shelter in the crystalline caverns the wyrm came from.

 

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Caspian shielded his eyes with a makeshift visor that was his hand. Shades and shifts of vermilion and crimson mixed and melded together in his gaze, as though a wicked witch was stirring a concoction within his irises. His sharply vivid stare turned away from the serpentlike creature in the sky, when sounds behind him drew his attention.

 

"Oh," Chelsea's partly disappointed, and partly not at all surprised tone fluttered in the air for a moment like oily vapor. Caspian raised his brow as the blue vixen corrected the helmet on her head.

"Let me guess," Caspian turned around, and leaned against a cavern wall - only to immediately bounce back from its serrated, crystal-ridden surface. Despite the setback, he continued: "You wanted to be the first."

"As per usual," the woman stated matter-of-factly, as she marched past him. Caspian huffed, amused, his eyes following her path.

"Need a new helmet?"

Chelsea scoffed. "As if you had the resAAEBRTNHSD." Her truthful insult got caught in the sudden fall, when the ground under her feet sloped down a lot faster than she had anticipated. The azure-coated Athos stumbled downwards, until she landed face first in the snow. Caspian hurried after her, keeping a somewhat straight face. The woman was a hazard, but a loyal one. He watched her struggle herself into a sitting position, and crossed his arms on his chest.

"Remind me why I hired you again."

"Bechaushe I'm phebthy." Chelsea responded in her ordinary fashion - excluding a mouth full of snow from that ordinary - sarcastic with an unflinching poker face. She set her hands on her hips to drive a nonexistent point across. Caspian snorted and shook his head. The mechanisms she had for survival were unbelievable for him.

 

A distant roar of an unknown beast pulled the focus of them both. Chelsea got up the rest of the way, still spitting that snow out of her mouth. The more it just stuck to the inside of her mouth, and the less it seemed to melt, it became quite obvious that it wasn't, in fact, snow. She turned to Caspian, and saw him spin a blade in his hand. It was scarlet in color, and uneven in appearance. The red running down his forearm confirmed her suspicion. Before Chelsea had the chance to say anything, the man got there first:

"Ready for some snake huntin'?" He turned partially to the blue eternal, a malicious, mischievous grin veiling his face ungracefully like a wet rag.

"You're an idiot," Chelsea huffed.

"As per usual," Caspian replied.