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09-17-2015, 03:44 AM
The elephant pulls back as the flames leapt along Brisa’s body. He had no idea she had magic. He watches the little one toddle on her too long legs, all knees and hocks and ungainly movements. He glances up at Brisa as she speaks— helpful for once? A slight frown creases his brow at her self deprecating statement.
Though his gaze is drawn back to the foal once more, and the frown smooths. For who can resist the sight of a newborn? And who can remain unhappy while watching it stand to nurse? Certainly not the behemoth.
He speaks to Brisa, though his warm blue gaze stays on Astra, “No need to apologize, I’m glad you were here to help protect little Astra,” he pauses, weighing words, “And I’m am certain you are more useful than you know, Brisa,” blue gaze glances at her, a mixture of reproof and concern, before snapping back to the foal beneath Whisper’s wing.
Ears flick towards Whisper as she voices a question. He lowers his head once more, to Astra’s level, as he answers the new mother, “Yes, we briefly met in the very meadow when I was new to Helovia. Though I did not know of her magic— very nifty, Brisa,” he glances and smiles at her. Once again, his attention returns to the nursing filly, his eyes now at her level. Part of him wants her to end her first meal so that he might see her, though another part of him (a slowly awakening paternal part) wants her finish her first meal entirely.
Though he is immersed in the warmth and happiness of a new foal, there is a sadness weighing in his barrel. Similar to the sadness that clings to the back of Brisa’s blue eyes as she looks at Astra and Whisper. The loss of a child gives a weight to the soul— and one always recognizes that burden in another.
Though his gaze is drawn back to the foal once more, and the frown smooths. For who can resist the sight of a newborn? And who can remain unhappy while watching it stand to nurse? Certainly not the behemoth.
He speaks to Brisa, though his warm blue gaze stays on Astra, “No need to apologize, I’m glad you were here to help protect little Astra,” he pauses, weighing words, “And I’m am certain you are more useful than you know, Brisa,” blue gaze glances at her, a mixture of reproof and concern, before snapping back to the foal beneath Whisper’s wing.
Ears flick towards Whisper as she voices a question. He lowers his head once more, to Astra’s level, as he answers the new mother, “Yes, we briefly met in the very meadow when I was new to Helovia. Though I did not know of her magic— very nifty, Brisa,” he glances and smiles at her. Once again, his attention returns to the nursing filly, his eyes now at her level. Part of him wants her to end her first meal so that he might see her, though another part of him (a slowly awakening paternal part) wants her finish her first meal entirely.
Though he is immersed in the warmth and happiness of a new foal, there is a sadness weighing in his barrel. Similar to the sadness that clings to the back of Brisa’s blue eyes as she looks at Astra and Whisper. The loss of a child gives a weight to the soul— and one always recognizes that burden in another.
@Brisa @Whisper
Please tag Tembovu.
