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11-01-2015, 08:09 PM
(This post was last modified: 11-01-2015, 08:12 PM by Tembovu.
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Nature's great masterpiece : an elephant ; the only harmless great thing.
He feels a shift in the body he pressed his legs against. It morphed from limp loss to rigid anger, and the giant stallion flicked his ears and eyes towards the fallen man. ‘I don’t care’ his voice was lifeless, answering his questions from a place that no father should ever have to experience. A flash of acutely painful empathy breaks through the continual ache he feels for Mauja.
He had been alone when he found his dead loved ones. He now understood what a heartbreaking blessing that had been. Mauja was surrounded, regrettably so. Tembovu, himself, had been drawn to him by good intentions. But he arrived only to see a soul shatter.
The white leopard shakes against his forelimbs as he shrieks, convulsing against the thick columns that mean to give support. But now he sees that they only trap him, for Mauja does not need or want comfort now. Despite all the elephantine man has been through, he cannot ease the path of child death.
Thick ears catch the words that spit from clenched teeth, ‘You take it, then.’ He is at a loss, for he did not mean to take that from the electrified mare. He had only meant to act as a buffer between Mauja’s grief and the repercussions of his choices. Tembovu struggles for words, knowing too well the overwhelming emotions his friend feels— yet is unable to aid him. “Mauja, I— I only wish help…” his deep, quiet words fade, for he knows how useless they are— how moronic. There is no help he can give. He knows this. Quietly, he regains his words, "I will make sure the Edge has a lead to take care of it," he offers quietly. It was not an affirmation of taking leadership (did he want that?), but he was taking the burden of finding a new lead off of the grieving stallion. At least he could do that for him.
A winged yearling that he had seen at the Edge approaches, speaks, and is overwhelmed by the grief. She wedges herself near Mauja, pushing the mammoth away with gentle pressure on his chest. Indeed, it was too crowded, too bloody, too much. So he removes his attempt at understanding, stepping away from his friend. The congealed blood flops lazily in the holes left by his massive hooves.
He fades away, similarly to how the electrified mare has. Though he, too, remains; a potential lifeline in the sea of loss.
Yet another appears, and he feels his ears fall backwards. The black and bronze unicorn ruffles the dead mare’s forelock in familiarity. Then begins to craft a vessel. At first his giant head cocks in confusion. Then the realization dawns: the raft is a way for Mauja to return the body of his child.
He could assist in lifting the mare. His large frame was good for that. He takes a half-step towards the body, deep blue eyes watching Mauja closely to await his wishes.
He had been alone when he found his dead loved ones. He now understood what a heartbreaking blessing that had been. Mauja was surrounded, regrettably so. Tembovu, himself, had been drawn to him by good intentions. But he arrived only to see a soul shatter.
The white leopard shakes against his forelimbs as he shrieks, convulsing against the thick columns that mean to give support. But now he sees that they only trap him, for Mauja does not need or want comfort now. Despite all the elephantine man has been through, he cannot ease the path of child death.
Thick ears catch the words that spit from clenched teeth, ‘You take it, then.’ He is at a loss, for he did not mean to take that from the electrified mare. He had only meant to act as a buffer between Mauja’s grief and the repercussions of his choices. Tembovu struggles for words, knowing too well the overwhelming emotions his friend feels— yet is unable to aid him. “Mauja, I— I only wish help…” his deep, quiet words fade, for he knows how useless they are— how moronic. There is no help he can give. He knows this. Quietly, he regains his words, "I will make sure the Edge has a lead to take care of it," he offers quietly. It was not an affirmation of taking leadership (did he want that?), but he was taking the burden of finding a new lead off of the grieving stallion. At least he could do that for him.
A winged yearling that he had seen at the Edge approaches, speaks, and is overwhelmed by the grief. She wedges herself near Mauja, pushing the mammoth away with gentle pressure on his chest. Indeed, it was too crowded, too bloody, too much. So he removes his attempt at understanding, stepping away from his friend. The congealed blood flops lazily in the holes left by his massive hooves.
He fades away, similarly to how the electrified mare has. Though he, too, remains; a potential lifeline in the sea of loss.
Yet another appears, and he feels his ears fall backwards. The black and bronze unicorn ruffles the dead mare’s forelock in familiarity. Then begins to craft a vessel. At first his giant head cocks in confusion. Then the realization dawns: the raft is a way for Mauja to return the body of his child.
He could assist in lifting the mare. His large frame was good for that. He takes a half-step towards the body, deep blue eyes watching Mauja closely to await his wishes.
Tembovu
@Ulrik @Naerys @Roskuld
Please tag Tembovu.
