FORWARD-dated to the evening of July 18 - open to both courts; video

[bird_brain]

[The creaking of wooden wheels accompanies the sway of the wagon. The very air crackles with electric tension -- magic in the air and upon the shackled burden resting uncomfortably in the wagon. There is little to be seen: heavy chain wrapped around the viewer's body gives little slack and all that is in front of him is the wooden plank of the wagon. The wagon stops and the noise of the creaking wood gives way to business-like speech and heavy, booted footsteps.

The chains shift, pulling at feathers and fur alike but there is no movement, for the mage who cast this paralysis is talented. Aubri can only breathe and nothing else. When chains pinch, there cannot be reaction. He cannot recoil against the pulled feathers.

And he cannot do a damned thing when one wing is grabbed and forcibly extended over the low side of the wagon. The sound comes first: the metallic slide of shears snapping through feather; the pain follows on quick steps, for they are none too gentle with their clipping. The primaries are messily clipped, some yanked free, some twisted and bleeding by the time that wing is done -- and then it's left hanging awkwardly (painfully) over the edge of the wagon.

(Wait. Wait. Just wait. The spell will ease and there will be blood. If I meet my end here, then I will bring them all with me. It's the litany that runs through Aubri's mind and it grows ever harder with anger and humiliation and self-recrimination.)

The chains shift again, not gently, and Aubri's other wing is extended by force -- and it hurts this time, bending a little far back and straining the muscles. This time, Aubri makes a sound -- a soft huff -- and the wing twitches. The spell is wearing thin. Someone laughs, grabs a feather, twists, and yanks -- and then drops the mangled feather just in front of his beak. At the sound of the shears once again, Aubri closes his eyes and resolves to wait.]

[ooc;; this broadcasts only a short time after this thread so don't expect Aubri to be in the best of moods]]

Comments

voice

[kingsdaughter]

[She's crying very quietly but too hard to use video. It takes a few breaths for her to calm down enough to talk.]

I'm sorry--

[And now she's burying her face in her apron and muffling her tears.]

voice

[bird_brain]

[Aubri's hurt, yes, but he's not completely out of it. Weary and aching but coherent. Awake. (Determined. Humiliated.) He hasn't moved from the place he found to hole up for awhile but the time will come when he will, as Celegorm 'suggested,' wing his way toward Caer Glaem. He has his locket close-by and is listening.

It breaks his heart to hear her crying.]

As am I. [His voice is rough, accent strong.] I did not fulfill the promise I made.