He was closest to Ishtar; had seen her clearest, had seen her closest to the slavering shades.
He ran for her. As he ran he raised one hand, nicked at his own armoured wrist with a curved black gauntlet-claw, trusting that the only thing that could cut through the armour would be the armour itself. It healed almost immediately, skin and shell snapping together. Black blood spattered across the altar. Leaves sprung up from it, wildflowers, succulent and thriving, and they raced not for the great, vine-caged creature which bent over the altar but for Shamash.
If they got to him, they'd wrap thick stems about him, squeeze tight, and one great carnivorous-mawed flower would bend its neck with clumsy gentleness to drop his father's blood onto his screwed-up face, into his mouth.
Ishtar, Ishtar! The cold bright fire of the Brucolac's armour clanged, burned, hissed as he lashed out at the huge, black fingers separating him from his daughter.
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He ran for her. As he ran he raised one hand, nicked at his own armoured wrist with a curved black gauntlet-claw, trusting that the only thing that could cut through the armour would be the armour itself. It healed almost immediately, skin and shell snapping together. Black blood spattered across the altar. Leaves sprung up from it, wildflowers, succulent and thriving, and they raced not for the great, vine-caged creature which bent over the altar but for Shamash.
If they got to him, they'd wrap thick stems about him, squeeze tight, and one great carnivorous-mawed flower would bend its neck with clumsy gentleness to drop his father's blood onto his screwed-up face, into his mouth.
Ishtar, Ishtar! The cold bright fire of the Brucolac's armour clanged, burned, hissed as he lashed out at the huge, black fingers separating him from his daughter.