Inhuman Relations #8
"It's a long story," you sigh deeply. "To make it short...I'm doing this for my brother. There was an...accident. He's dead. If I defeat the dragon, the genie will restore my brother to his former life, as he was, happy... Wait, were you human once too?"
The sphinx does not reply immediately, but shuffles her wings fixedly, her eyes following a hawk soaring high up on the thermals, claws flexing and cutting furrows into the soil. Lashing her tail, she skilfully does not acknowledge your question, but continues on a vein of her own choosing.
"He chased me," she says very quietly, her high cheekbones shadowing with sorrow. "He chased me out. He didn't care that it was my cave - mine! Don't you see?"
Unsure of what you may say to placate or comfort, you remain silent, adjusting your scant clothing with a self-conscious air, unexpectedly feeling more exposed amongst the scattered rocks than when you were clad in nothing at all. The sphinx turns her head this way and that, her expression rapidly changing from anger to sadness to helplessness and reverting to anger once again. Your muscles stiffen as this predator seems to lose sight of herself and your mind whirls with a feral instinct, which begs you to flee.
"I'll help you," she growls abruptly, springing to her paws with the suppleness of a lion. "You'll get me back in my cave, won't you? Your needs will serve mine... But I can't take you to the dragon like this. You need a weapon."
"And...you know where to find a weapon...capable of downing a dragon?" You answer hesitantly, unwilling to relax as your tail twitches, swatting anxiously at invisible flies.
"Yes," she murmurs simply, eyes downcast. "Yes, I do know where there is a weapon, though whether or not it is sufficient against the dragon... Well, that matter is in your hands entirely. Come with me now. Follow. What is your name?"
"Cain," you blurt out quickly, clattering after the sphinx, padding away on her large, rough paw pads, scarcely disturbing the scattered stones of the mountainside in her passing. She inclines her head gracefully in acceptance of this information and makes an impatient gesture with her furled wing tip, curling it forward twice in a mocking substitute for the hand she must have once had, if the genie was consistent with his efforts in obtaining creatures in the past...though you cannot be sure, of course. Who had Sadhana been?
"Keep up," Sadhana sighs in exasperation, bounding ahead.
What's her problem? You wonder silently, scrambling after her with your hooves clattering with far less grace across the stones. Sadhana has an air of knowing about her, yet something forlorn lurks in the curl of her wing-feathers, the way in which they are prone to slightly droop, rather than be lifted up proudly. Shaking your head in confusion - you don't have time to speculate, you trot forward awkwardly, coming up to her tawny side.
Written by Amethyst Mare on 18 June 2012
