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At first, there was nothing but the dawn, the hills, the meadows, the thistles and trees, the whistling ends of Tallsun, the incoming trumpet of hastening leaves at Orangemoon’s touch. His eyes were ensnared by a pair of golden ones blinking back at him - and then all at once, the bond snagged, caught, tied together in a culmination of feelings. Sensations bounded across his membrane, one after the other, in bright, vivid hues, in sparkling, glimmering facets, overwhelming, unassuming, potent, and lilting. Overcome, speechless, and affected, the little prince wasn’t sure which thoughts belonged to whom, couldn’t grasp hold of one without another taking its place, sharp and insistent, tugging and tugging against his skull until there was naught but a fox, naught but a boy. Eerie, strange, uncanny, and almost unnerving, but strikingly wonderful all at once, the child could only grin at the other one, bending to the shared whims, the enhanced dreams, the wild ambitions. The culmination of the rapture was curling, coiling, in the midst of his raw emotions. He didn’t know whether to laugh, to cry, to embark into some feral, savage prose, to wax poetic on the wonders of the world, to bend and break his countenance, to become immersed in the enduring entanglement of iniquity. The world was suddenly theirs, broad and wide, vast and persevering, chambers of furtive exploits and augured adventures. Drumming, drumming, and drumming across his mind were echoes of songs and conquering of foes, were pieces of nefarious rhythms and bestial crescendos, were wicked doldrums and curious factions breaking over the ramparts of his indulgent, curious mind, gazing deep into the golden facets of his newfound companion. They must have lingered behind the rock and rubble for some time, staring each other down, covered and coveted in new, unwinding sentiments, struggling to adapt, to mold, to shirk away the unease and clench at the triumph. Like wraith strings, like phantom moors, held and locked in place, the colt, with all his merits, with all his boldness, leaned forward, brushing his maw against the sable being’s carefully, quietly, and waited for a response. The latter, conforming much quicker than his newfound scion, uttered the faintest chirp, a dim chirrup, and Erebos laughed as the gnawing form of hunger tore through their measured minds – the little beast had carved his way out of his container; of course he was ravenous.
All the queries and questions he’d heard Adelric ruminate at Tobias’ birth came back to the surface: how to find the beast food, how to take care of it, how to ensure its safety when he’d always worried about himself. It’d been no wonder his spotted friend had asked and queried; Erebos was feeling all the more unaware of what to do or what to say, out of his element. These moments weren’t made of plunging daggers or menacing smirks, impish grins or devilish charisma. His advice was gone and forgotten, fleeting and coarse in the muted shade, rampant decadence and divine opulence scattering his thoughts to the wind. Perhaps his luck was a constant reeling thing, and he embraced it wholeheartedly, for no sooner had the temptation, the allure, to call for Adelric clatter against his throat, did his brethren appear. Had he sensed the prince’s success? Had he perceived his need to assist? The lad erupted into a series of fanciful grins, his lips rupturing into absolute glee and merriment, launching from his crouched position in front of the fox, gesturing to the babe in a series of nods and fervent elation, calculations lost for the moment, replaced by delight. His words bounced and ricocheted, one right after another in swift storms, body restlessly shifting, long, lanky columns enamored and jumbled. “Adelric! Tobias! You have to see!” Head lowered, he gently coaxed the kit to its feet, witnessed with warm triumph as it uttered one more chirp, narrowing its gaze slightly at being forced to stand on unsteady legs, but Erebos remained there, a constant force and presence. He launched into a story, a reckoning, an explanation, as if Adelric yearned to hear it. “I got him from a raven! We had tasks, and I had to try to get him on my own, and then find something in the Deep Forest-" The child may have rambled on and on, had the speckled friend not asked his own query – causing one more generous grin to grace the prince’s lips. Do you feel it? The boy’s took on a more careful reverence, bending into the rapture, the rampancy, the ceremony of the passing moments. “I do. Its incredible.”
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