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10-29-2014, 09:20 PM
 ranjiri & ryuu so while you're outside looking in, describing what you see, remember what you're looking at is me I flinched as the growling of the thunder invaded my tiny ears, drawing me tight to your side. My shivering was borne of fear rather than cold, though I knew you would protect me. Weather or wild beast, I did not doubt you could conquer it all. You were untouchable, unbeatable. I had yet to understand your mortality, because when I looked in your eyes the immense love I saw was strong enough and big enough to consume the entirety of the world. What could possibly exist in the world that could combat something so tangible? No, I was convinced that simply because you loved me, you could never be hurt. If you held such fire of devotion in your eyes alone, surely you must harness those powers in every facet of life. And though I knew this, I could not help the clench of my throat round rattling whimpers as the crescendo of impending storm rose ominously in the distance. Your side was warm against my skin, the kiss of your feathers a comfort as I tucked my cheek to your shoulder. Hiding in the darkness of your skin, away from the lioness in the skies that caused my insides to quake. "It'll be over soon." My tiny head nodded, for your words could never lie to me, and I would traipse happily into Hell itself should you ever give the word. Soft breath mussed my forelock, kisses from velvet lips at the base of my longest horn. "It's loud," I wanted to say. "Why are the skies angry?" I contemplated whispering. But my throat gripped each syllable like a death grip, and I remained silent as the grave. Would I ever be worthy of your love, if I could not even form the simplest of words? Why? Why could I not simply speak? Why was I so imperfect, and how could you stand to let me be such a disgrace? Surely I had no reasoning for the silence of my tongue, when my mind was ever singing. So instead I sighed, hating myself a little bit more, and tucked my cheek to your breast. Awaiting the end of my first storm, tucked hidden and safe beneath your wing where I belonged. Your name doesn't register at first, for I know you only as Momma, and I am tired and drooping against your frame as the night wears on. It is unusual for me to be up so late as it is. I blearily look up to see Uncle standing before us, grassy eyes warm as he reaches for you. I've come to understand that there is something aching between you, old and unforgotten though it may be. It drives you together, and I see in the pair of you a need for reassurance that shines brightly through the consistent brushes of skin. A reminder of life and togetherness. But what was it that you had lost to cause this to exist? I'm careful not to ask. It is my turn soon, and I wearily lift my crown to Uncle's to return his caress, appreciative of his perception and the quiet tone of his voice. I am tired, and the stress of the storm will not allow me peace. I hope he has come merely for a visit, but I can feel the ripple of Momma's frame and that desire is immediately torn asunder. Ilaria's sudden presence is only underlining, though her warmth is both appreciated on a physical and emotional level. Uncle's eyes flicker away, and his frame begins to move, until my mismatched eyes fall upon a stocky paint with a collar round his muscular neck. I shrink back against Momma, even as Uncle's words reveal that this is my grandfather. Grandfather? But why had I never met him before? I am sure he cannot see me, one of the benefits of the frail form I was cursed with. I selfishly hope to hide myself from his gaze, because blood or not, he is a stranger to me. But in my head I hear your words, telling me to be brave. That it's okay to be fearful, so long as I attempt to face it. The absence of your wing is a smooth motion, but the sudden reappearance of the piercing cold winds do nothing to encourage me. It is odd, to be laying on the cold sands when I am introduced, rather than standing. As if I could look any less pathetic on my split and aching hooves, but it was the thought that counted surely? The stallion...no, grandfather. Grandfather approaches, muzzle lowering as his tongue forms my name with an accent I am unfamiliar with. It is pleasing to hear, though. Shyness dips my head at the loving look in deep golden gems, gaze flickering from the ebony of my prone bony knees to his eyes. "H-Hello Grandfather," my tongue manages to unstick from the roof of my mouth to say. I flicker my eyes nervously between Momma and Uncle. "Where...why didn't you come see me? Do you have a job like Uncle Cera?" It doesn't strike me that Grandfather could possibly live in another herd. The desert is all I know. It doesn't register that I have forgotten those early memories of Aurelia and the Edge. I don't even remember much about Momma adopting me. Surely I am her real son? It is a kindness, to forget.  |
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