tembovu

Those who stand for nothing fall for anything.

The great Glazier was feeling sorry for himself. It was pathetic, really. The moon was full in all her glory, high above him in the height of nighttime splendor. The mists were in peak form, actively swirling, dissipating, and thickening between the trees. They played in the Lady’s light, creating illusions for all who dared to wander them.

The Elephant did. He wandered and plodded, lost in the mists and his thoughts. Why had insomnia plagued him so much, lately? Perhaps if he had other distractions at night…

He pinned his ears at the thought. Annoyed at himself for forever thinking with his endowment beneath his barrel. For forever hovering at the edge of his mind’s darkness. For forever feeling sorry for himself. Pathetic. Get yourself together, man.

He halted his sweeping strides, roughly shaking his body as if to rid himself of this sorry state. His buckskin hide was damp with mist, glowing silver in the full moon’s shine. The bold black slashes on his sides were muted to grey in the ethereal light. The paleness on his face gleamed against the ink markings. Even his deep blue eyes were lightened in the white light.

Though his eyes were as creased as his thick brow— gaze casting around him. Where had he ended up? His gaze met an amethyst one. It was glittering and hard. The eyes of the glass dragon. Though it’s marvelous body was marred only by small cracks running along the glassy skin, it was the face that captured Tembovu’s attention.

Was it… frowning at him? The large stallion blinked once. Twice. His head cocked to the side, ears perking forward from their annoyed pinning. “Surely you can’t be one to pass judgement on me?” The low rumble that escaped him was disbelieving. Did that frown turn into a glower?!

Thick, black tipped ears went flush with his head, teeth barring slightly in his foul mood. “Keep the opinionated looks to yourself, glass friend,” though his words were genial, the tone with which he spat them was sorely miffed. In a surprisingly juvenile move (perhaps because he knew how ridiculous he was being), he swung his haunches around, giving his hind end to the glass beast.

Glancing nonchalantly over a massive shoulder, he looked at the beast out of the corner of his eye. It’s face seemingly went back to an impassive (if frightening) stare. He huffed slightly, satisfaction flashing superficially through him. He showed him.

It was short-lived, though. For the absurdity and sorrow of the situation overtook his satisfaction ten-fold. Could he only best a glass statue in a battle of wills? And was the glass statue really who he was spending his evening with? Dejectedly, he drug his hoof through one of the last puddles of Birdsong. The snow must have been sheltered by the trees and mists here, to have lasted so late. But eventually all snow yields to Tallsun’s impending heat.

He snorts loudly, pawing the puddle. The flying droplets shattered the mist around his forelegs, crystalline arrows to the mischievous fog. That felt good, hitting things felt good. Even if it was just water and the ground. He was a stallion, after all.

So he pawed his leg again. And again. Then both front hooves left the earth, coming down to slam all the water out of this poor puddle—

A creak of cracking glass. Suddenly the amethyst gaze was beside his, disapproval written in every sculpted line of that marvelously menacing face. Shock was written all over the elephant’s, as he turned his head to watch the dragon with wide eyes while his front end fell slowly back to earth.

Since the Glazier was massive, a spray of droplets still showered the air in a ring around his front legs. The dragon sighed— a haughty sigh that seemed to say, “If you are going to act like a colt, at least be productive about it.” The sigh condensed as mist around the droplets, hardening them, shaping them. Until they fell as a large, continuous ring of beaded crystal around his hooves.

What? Had he done this? He lowered his broad, pale grey muzzle to inspect this new glass. He snorted in surprise as it shocked the tender, velvet skin. His head flew up, twisting to look for the dragon.

It was sitting smugly where it had been before, purple stones slightly narrowed in the self-righteous look it now wore. Or, at least, it seemed to wear. Tembovu’s own, cobalt eyes narrowed suspiciously at the beast, before they snapped back to the new creation at his feet.

Now what?