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02-24-2014, 12:49 PM
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CIRCE The dark was no place for a frightened child—especially as deep of dark as that pit of mystery had been. Even the shadowmere felt her spine shiver with cautious distaste of the place, while the foaling hugging her side had very nearly collapsed under the sheer weight of their convulsions. The strange grey mare didn’t seem to mind the departure of the foal as Circe carefully guided them toward the comfortingly illuminated mouth of the cave; and so, the shadowmere was convinced that this was not the child’s mother, after all. As such, the shadowmere climbed to friendlier terrain, emerging into the room of radiant, mystical sustenance that framed a ballroom of splendor. Her eye cast about for any sign of her sons; her gut twisted painfully when she saw no sign of them. They’ve wandered off before, whispered a voice in her mind, the sensible warrior’s crow that frequently battled the crooning molly-coddle that fretted obstinately forever and ever, in the deepest recesses of her mind, they’ve wandered off, and they’ve never come to harm. Indeed, the shadowmere was most glad that her sons were finding it in themselves to boldly wander into new experiences, and that they were gradually tempering the kind of meddle their parents possessed—she could not be more pleased. However, still she worried that the next time they wandered away from her hip would be their absolute last. The dark mare shook these thoughts away, for there was something tangible that she would have to worry about this moment—for the child seemed petrified and tongue-tied by their own fear. Accustomed as she was to her own sons’ bulk for their age, Circe was initially stunned that this glass-spun little childling was, indeed, a young boy; she supposed his parentage was one of graceful countenances, most notably in the curve of his horn, the litheness of his tail, the elegant arch of his wing. With a soft snort, Circe reached down to touch the thin, brittle shoulder; she smiled warmly down at the child, an inquiry slipping softly from her tongue, “Are you hungry, child?” Perhaps it may have simply been the thin conformation of this child, but Circe did not like the slenderness of abdomen that he displayed, and he seemed too small to completely sustain himself with the glowing grasses that sprung around them. It was true that Circe had been searching for her sons so that they may feed from her before she put them to sleep—but she supposed, if her sons had been hungry, they wouldn’t have caused their mother to wander the underground in search for their mischievous little asses. @[Kari] |
