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02-23-2016, 12:07 AM
tembovu
He was so tired. Before, sleep had been a fleeting pleasure, and now, after cradling a burnt body, it was entirely evasive. His knee was beginning to ache, a memento from being burned by his own conflagration. A sigh pushed out his nostrils, haunches pushed into trunks that creaked and groaned from his weight, to relief the weight on his forehand.
Mbwene, his small elephant shadow, was exploring the tenacity of tree bark. Just how much pressure did it take for her trunk to pry the rough bark from the smooth wood surface beneath? She was thrilled with her newfound acuity and mastery of her long, wayward appendage. It had taken a while for her trunk to obey her commands. Now, she could control pressure exertion!
The Elephant King felt the elation pulsing through their bond— so at odds with his own exhausted and dispirited state. Though he could not help the small, lopsided smile that crossed his muzzle as yet another wave of glee washed over him from Mbwene.
Thank the gods for this little pachyderm.
An ear flicked sideways, great head following, as Nyx’s call funneled into his black-rimmed ears. He recognized the call immediately— it was impossible for him to forget the timbre a voice he had known intimately. A breath to brace himself; and then he was walking with only the occasional ginger step on his right forelimb. Internally, he checked for the icy constraints that had locked over his dangerous magic: still in place.
The silver warrioress is a welcome sight to his eyes. The General is sleek and muscled from her duty to keeping the Edge’s warriors in shape. He felt both pride and accomplishment at have her as his General— at least one choice of his was right. He slowly halted before the grey woman. “Nyx,” nodding and smiling warmly in greeting (though his cobalt eyes remained distant, shadowed), “I find myself at your beck and call once again,” humor and amusement colored his voice— reminiscent of the last time his General had called for him. How different those times had been, Nyx with twins at her side that weren’t his. So very different…
Mbwene, never far behind her giant bonded, halted alongside his thick forelimbs. Bright blue eyes warily eyeing the grown lion companion before her. Ears, small in her infancy, still spread and flap in instinctual warning while her trunk curled around Tembovu’s cannon bone as if to say, “Mess with me, then you mess with him.”
Mbwene, his small elephant shadow, was exploring the tenacity of tree bark. Just how much pressure did it take for her trunk to pry the rough bark from the smooth wood surface beneath? She was thrilled with her newfound acuity and mastery of her long, wayward appendage. It had taken a while for her trunk to obey her commands. Now, she could control pressure exertion!
The Elephant King felt the elation pulsing through their bond— so at odds with his own exhausted and dispirited state. Though he could not help the small, lopsided smile that crossed his muzzle as yet another wave of glee washed over him from Mbwene.
Thank the gods for this little pachyderm.
An ear flicked sideways, great head following, as Nyx’s call funneled into his black-rimmed ears. He recognized the call immediately— it was impossible for him to forget the timbre a voice he had known intimately. A breath to brace himself; and then he was walking with only the occasional ginger step on his right forelimb. Internally, he checked for the icy constraints that had locked over his dangerous magic: still in place.
The silver warrioress is a welcome sight to his eyes. The General is sleek and muscled from her duty to keeping the Edge’s warriors in shape. He felt both pride and accomplishment at have her as his General— at least one choice of his was right. He slowly halted before the grey woman. “Nyx,” nodding and smiling warmly in greeting (though his cobalt eyes remained distant, shadowed), “I find myself at your beck and call once again,” humor and amusement colored his voice— reminiscent of the last time his General had called for him. How different those times had been, Nyx with twins at her side that weren’t his. So very different…
Mbwene, never far behind her giant bonded, halted alongside his thick forelimbs. Bright blue eyes warily eyeing the grown lion companion before her. Ears, small in her infancy, still spread and flap in instinctual warning while her trunk curled around Tembovu’s cannon bone as if to say, “Mess with me, then you mess with him.”
Please tag Tembovu.
