No Time for Lies and Empty Fights
Though her tenderness struck a chord deep beneath his stalwart exterior, Hector offered no trace of its existence to the ever fluctuating crowd around the God of the Earth; around them. He was a Dragon soldier, tried and tested, and would show no emotional weakness in their face – no matter the measure of their acquaintance. Isara however was the key to his soul, she knew better than even lovers of old how tenderly the deepest blood pulsed; his affections belong to her after all (there would be no other dame to tempt him).
Bright orange gaze trained to her dutifully, watching as she strode alongside with large-sized wings flailing around clumsily – there was a pattern developing though, he noticed, but let her play without interfering. His own parental assertiveness was mellowing the more they talked, bonded and more often he was finding himself able to watch and not rescue (so quickly anyway). It was a fine thing, because hovering around and orchestrating Isara’s activities constantly, would in the end give her no confidence or sound experience.
She was coming out of her shell beautifully - a winter bud opening its vivid hues in the face of hardship dealt.
They fell into the region of the rotunda - a landscape only recently discovered after an eon spent like moles living underground - and there were a few already gathered beneath the wandering shade. He passed an attentive eye through the tangled grove, finding Ampere and the cripple child she had birthed close by. Instead of bristling though, smirking at her body’s faulty craft like once he had, the stalwart stallion lessened his posture (his conceit) in their presence, and touched whiskered nose to Isara’s painted shoulder. The filly’s dependence had stirred within him new compassion, and there seemed little reason to mask it from the eyes of family.
The young voice of the girl pulled his attention home however, and large horned skull tipped curiously to the side as he regarded her. "Oh?" he answered, also quietly, having noted the sudden streak of subtlety with an amused smirk. Almost as suddenly Isara was dancing off through the undergrowth, and though he slackened the reigns, he turned his thoughts promptly to Veci - keep her safe...
The Boggart had not paid off his service each for terrorizing the girl in the Threshold, nor making a complete fool of him at the Storytelling by old Dragon’s Blood. Sullenly, the creature sailed after her.
Patiently he waited on the spot, biding time; watching the striking splash of her coat moving between the cluttering shrubs which leeched shrewdly from the endless supply of lake water. She returned at last, dragging with some effort, lithe reeds from their bed and explained the purpose she intended for them. He nodded, impressing his approval, and as she turned to speak to the one-winged boy, Hector began pulling the long plants up and over his back (doggedly forcing his body to contort). Content with his child in the company of the Gladiator for a moment, Hector moved to tear bark from weathered tree trunks – his contribution to the task.
Many were collecting around them as time passed by, and he was pleasantly surprised to find most were Dragon kin.
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