Questions were an expectation of the Threshold, or any empire really (for he always had at least one or two running around his cranium at given moments), so he tilted his head a fraction, eager to see and hear Tiva had enjoyed his assertions into the conversation, that she’d been intrigued and curious about the world before them. Before he had an opportunity to gloss over the subjects, Elsa managed on her own, and perhaps it was rightly so, she had far more experience than he. The winged mare called for another deep in the heart of the wood, and he watched in keen admiration, for the prince would not pout in front of others, as a beautiful, enchanting, alluring, and no doubt powerful, ivory bird flew along the branches, before perching on the femme’s cranium. The lad gave the smallest of sighs, gazing fondly at the aspects of a companion, recalling Adelric’s Tobias and its first wobbling steps, their wonderful bond, their token, unattainable nuances, and while he picked and carved and sculpted his way through marble monoliths and all-consuming turkeys, the lad had received naught for his efforts. Maybe, eventually, he’d be able to have one of his very own, and he nearly asked the Falls member how she’d acquired it (through task? Through strength? Through magic and enchantments and prowess?), but instead, he lowered his eyes and riveted them onto some roots, some trees, some bark fallen upon the wild grass. Determination steeled within him moments thereafter, and certainly not avaricious plumes, childish greed, or wanton petulance grinding in fractious, ferocious rasps, skewing his smile back into its impish qualities, struggling to add to the potent speech and demonstration, nearly unworthy of the attempt. “Sometimes you can find your own in tasks. I haven’t yet, but my friend has!” He’d certainly tried.

But then the conversation leaned towards the Gods, which he’d been witness to, though never chosen (a similar pattern; a child ensconced in the background, dreaming until they were firmly crushed). He’d been enamored and riveted, fascinated and beguiled, by their potency, by their dominance, by their supremacy; but as the diatribe turned, for Elsa speculated on all of the Gods and their abilities, Erebos realized he’d only seen two of them: the great god of the Sun and fire, blistering, scorching fire, and the mysterious Moon Goddess, quiet and menacing, twisted and malevolent. Though he’d never met the Basin’s patron, elemental deity, he knew of him, and the beast was bound to be just as pernicious as his brethren. “Our God of Spark also controls time!” What had his mother said? What had Zikar-Sin ever taught them? There had to be more things…how would the God yearn to be described and cultivated by his people? “He’s very powerful. He makes sure time flows as it should. And he can shock people with lightning!” Of course, what was intriguing and interesting to a colt could differ from what others perceived, but his loud, boisterous vocals hopefully got his notions across.

[Woohoo 100th post!]