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the happy ending depends, of course...
He grinned briefly at Edgar’s exuberant greeting, dipping his massive horn in a silent ‘hello’ to the mischievous zephyr. Though he returned his gaze to Elsa as she spoke, then watched the stone she kicked down the cliff, following its disastrous path with his navy eyes. He quietly studied its final resting place for a few moments, the last of the ripples and splashes quickly swallowed by the ravenous sea.
Then, riveting his attention back to the snow touched mare, his low voice rolls firmly, but softly, “It’s not just a jump that I’m worried about.” Indeed, her ‘jumping’ could be saved by the loft of her wings. But would she use them? And there were destructive ways to agonize oneself that did not include taking one’s life. Dark blue eyes narrow slightly as he studies her, the markings on his face creasing with the returning concern at her dull words.
But then she faced him, dead truths falling flatly from parted pink lips. Despite her toneless voice, the bluntness with which she spoke seemed to push him away. Away from her past, her conversation, her being. But then the words she spoke finally sank in— she found her twins?! His ears perk forward, surprise widening his eyes and raising his brows. He was not to be put off of the topic by questions after Erthe or toneless voices.
“If you looked for, found, and reached out to them, then you're more of a mother than you know,” his words rumbled in a combination of observation, gentle rebuke, and approval, “You cannot go back and change the past, and there’s nothing to be made for dwelling over the failures in it. But you can create a future.” He found himself telling her the doctrine he was trying to adhere too. Easier said than done, apparently.
“But I am glad to hear Auriel has joined us, and you, in the Edge,” his voice grew lighter, happier as a smile once again grew on his muzzle. “And Erthe is fine, she’s a remarkable little filly,” one could not mistake the pride in his voice over the pearly hybrid yearling.
He watched for her sapphire gaze, and found it only once before it skittered away from him in either nervousness or uneasiness. Ears swiveled sideways as his own indecision hovered over him, before he swept it aside and took his questions to the air, “Elsa, forgive the probing question, but what of your children’s father?” He knew how personal and deep he might be delving, but she was his Queen. Surely he should know at least something of her history in Helovia. Was she entitled to asking him such questions?
Careful, Elephant. Turnabout’s fair play.
Then, riveting his attention back to the snow touched mare, his low voice rolls firmly, but softly, “It’s not just a jump that I’m worried about.” Indeed, her ‘jumping’ could be saved by the loft of her wings. But would she use them? And there were destructive ways to agonize oneself that did not include taking one’s life. Dark blue eyes narrow slightly as he studies her, the markings on his face creasing with the returning concern at her dull words.
But then she faced him, dead truths falling flatly from parted pink lips. Despite her toneless voice, the bluntness with which she spoke seemed to push him away. Away from her past, her conversation, her being. But then the words she spoke finally sank in— she found her twins?! His ears perk forward, surprise widening his eyes and raising his brows. He was not to be put off of the topic by questions after Erthe or toneless voices.
“If you looked for, found, and reached out to them, then you're more of a mother than you know,” his words rumbled in a combination of observation, gentle rebuke, and approval, “You cannot go back and change the past, and there’s nothing to be made for dwelling over the failures in it. But you can create a future.” He found himself telling her the doctrine he was trying to adhere too. Easier said than done, apparently.
“But I am glad to hear Auriel has joined us, and you, in the Edge,” his voice grew lighter, happier as a smile once again grew on his muzzle. “And Erthe is fine, she’s a remarkable little filly,” one could not mistake the pride in his voice over the pearly hybrid yearling.
He watched for her sapphire gaze, and found it only once before it skittered away from him in either nervousness or uneasiness. Ears swiveled sideways as his own indecision hovered over him, before he swept it aside and took his questions to the air, “Elsa, forgive the probing question, but what of your children’s father?” He knew how personal and deep he might be delving, but she was his Queen. Surely he should know at least something of her history in Helovia. Was she entitled to asking him such questions?
Careful, Elephant. Turnabout’s fair play.
...on when you end your story.
@Elsa
Please tag Tembovu.
