| Subject: He hadn't seen Sirith go down; he assumed she was with the gryphlets. He fights a gasp and, hopping towards her, he places his paws on her battered body. Summoning his own power, he focuses... Thank you, Fire Storm, but I think I can give this a try... |
Author:
Rashkae
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Date Posted: 03:24:07 06/08/01 Fri
In reply to:
Fire Storm
's message, ""We are not at war with you and your fellow griffons, and we have no reson to be. When I heard that some drakes had come this way, I could not help but wonder why. I am appauled at the way they have behaved. They were a bunch I have never seen before, but if thay return, i'll be happy to help again.">" on 21:34:37 06/07/01 Thu
Remembering DOL's words, he reaches within himself and finds his Power, slightly used from the Drakes, but quickly replenishing itself. Summoning it, he lets is seep from his body into that of his mate, un-crisping burnt skin, knitting bone and muscle, soothing scarred flesh. Her body flashes gold, then recedes. He smiles, releved, and turns to Mischa.
You two always end up in bad shape. I'm going to have to do something about this... He winks before placing his forepaws gingerly on her shoulders. Closing his eyes, he repeats the process. Mischa's silver-violet blood glows gold, then recedes, leaving her plumage clean and new, and wounds smoothed over.
Trotting back to his mate, he curls up around her, knowing she'll need her sleep. PoG, Mithros, keep a look out. He gryph grins. And thank you, all of you. You fought so well.
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