.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
08-28-2014, 10:49 AM
Illynx
The griffon gives the cat little concern, for it is only a cat – it is not winged as she is nor is it food, and so it is simply a wild beast better left to the cares and concerns of the bonded unicorns who kept them. She glances occasionally as the lynx moves from spot to spot, even disdainfully glares at the playful stance she acquires when Mycah takes notice of the winged beast that accompanies Illynx, but she doesn’t move or give much else for the creature to work off of – which is perhaps why the lynx turns to Rikyn, who is always curious about the bonded companions he encounters, or anything he does not know the name of, for that matter.The boy is about to frolic up and try to touch the tufted ears that draw his eyes so when the Lord of Spark appears and vanishes, leaving behind his electrical wake a silence and a change of directive. All thoughts of play are dashed by the promise of being useful, the boy bouncing cheerfully to the vines that need bodies to pull them alongside his dam, a last sad look given to the lynx that he didn’t get a chance to play with her. There will be time, he’s sure. The logs have to be lifted into an upright position once they’re in the clearing, and he’ll only be in the way. An opportune time for friendship and frivolity, if he must say so himself, and it adds a bit of luster to his stance as he applies pressure to the lines and gives what little he can offer to the task at hoof. Mother, son, and behemoth pull on the constraints the God has gifted them, the work arduous and slow to start; the wood groans and creaks, sparingly at first, until the first few are moving, the rest noisily coming to life as their combined force finally gets the lumber rolling. They’re still heavy and require much effort to move, but less so than the Lady would have thought; the Lord Time’s vine contraption allows them to roll freely, their own momentum assisting in the task of getting them out of the scant tree line and across the meadow to the shoreline. "He must be excited for the festivities we’ve planned for him," she says after a few yards through the smile that still sculpts her dark lips, "He’s never helped us in our constructs before." if I only could make a deal with God.
|
