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02-22-2014, 03:34 PM
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Carnesîr;
There was a gentle clattering of nimble hooves on stone, but they were not his; his gaze was miserably fixed upon the ground, shoulders hunched, the soft corners of his mouth curved firmly down. Carnesîr is a selfish boy, for all his best intentions- it is easy for him to wallow in the depths of pity, to bemoan his horrid fate and awful luck, so that the world would fade into a dark background. He would not think that if he were to look up, he might see a face he had burned with longing for, did not think to extricate himself the tangled, writhing knots of emotion in his breast. Rather, he is enraptured in the art of nostrils flaring in peculiarly whimpering exhales, the twitching of his tail-tip, the curl of his lowered neck. He awaits a barbed comment, a voice of honeyed concern to reach out at him, and his mind fumbles for something to respond to. There is nothing. Fear begins to choke at his throat (what if it was something else? Something not so benign as just hooves on the ground?) What if a wraith had gotten in? No, no it couldn't be; and the craven child is petrified, terrified to move his gaze up, full of indecision and soul-tearing confusion, the slowly shredding fabrics of emotion and logic. He crumbles; he wilts; shrinking to a forlorn ghost of a stallion (if he could even be called that, when he lacks the swarthy muscle of a true war-horse!) The gentle curve of his ribcage constricts as he inhales sharply, holding his breath, waiting for the unknown watcher to desert and abandon him, but no such thing happens. And slowly, dreading what he might see, the line of his vision crawls upwards from rock to ebony hoof to barred legs and slate silver- and he recognizes the shape of those slender legs! Through the cavern his cry rings, a rippling song of joy, unmistakable in it's elation and astonishment, a lilting shout of elvish. "Yonya! Kari!" Forwards he bolts, clumsy in his joy, leaping and scrambling downwards with nimble-footed and contradictory grace, boyish grin curling his lips. "Ui! It cannot be you, my son, yonya- I have looked so long for you! I swear, I am sorry, ai, I never meant to leave you! I was afraid, I am a coward, forgive me, ánin apsenë!" And he flows to smooth halt, liquid muscle, eyes urgent with his desperation, curling his head in hopes to reach out and brush his muzzle over his dear son's forehead. "My thoughts have always been with you- always, yonya- whatever may have happened between your mother and I... I love you, you are my family, I shall not let you down again." And his tirade comes to sudden end, and his eyes flick upwards anxiously; "but where is your mother, yonya? Where is Shadow?" |
art by aeolle
