Uriel

A faint hint of dragonsong drifted through the tall treetops and with each passing moment the incessant chattering became almost deafening. Uriel managed a curious glance toward the shadowed foliage that had yet been untouched by the decadence of autumn’s golden brush, but failed to notice anything other than the subtle flashes of orange and red as Tallis drifted through the wood. The colt was not duped by his mother’s constant companion nor was he lost to the frantic warnings meant to keep the prince from wandering from place. No smile touched his lips at the sight and instead the colt turned his eyes from the hysterical beast Evangeline had taken to hip so long ago.

It took some time for his mother to trace the images of his whereabouts to his current location and Uriel regarded any and all nuisances just as impassively as a stone wall. Instead, he preened his feathers, lipped a few errant stalks of grass, and meandered to and fro along the border, making certain that he never crossed that very fragile line. His taunting, however, was reserved specifically for the vermin he so vilely disliked. There was something sacred about companions that Uriel could not yet understand and wished more than anything to ignore. His father should have been the one at Evangeline’s side, but that bastard had failed her. After trailing the weakened beast into the forests beyond Helovia, Uriel had returned only to protect what Thor left behind. How he did so was entirely up to him… and Tallis would have to come to terms with that eventually.

When at last a vision of beauty and grace emerged from the misty heart of the Edge, a half smile curved the prince’s hardened lips. He was happy, truly and utterly, to see those evergreen eyes and pale, cascading locks, as Evangeline moved frantically toward him, for him. As if wishing to welcome her into his shoulder, the colt puffed and straightened, his feathers lifting in columns, one by one. “Mother,” he soothed, his voice dropping an octave until it was a bear whisper, unremitting and sure. Once Evangeline was close enough to catch hint of her light fragrance, the prince lowered his downy crown as a clear sign of respect for his presumably widowed mother. “I followed him, the fool. I stayed with him for a time out there… but I’ve returned for you. This is where I belong.” If he appeared wise beyond his years, he was not, but instead merely able to adopt a clever façade.

His gaze then wandered, searching and hoping, looking for the final piece that made up their familial puzzle. However, she never came… Sariel, it appeared, did not care for his return, and somehow that left a gnarled hole in his heart. In a display of weakness due to his immaturity and age, the prince lifted his front leg and struck the tender ground upon which he stood. Again and again he expressed his growing anger in the only way he knew how, “Where is she? Where is Sariel?” The colt turned a violent, icy blue gaze toward his mother and for a moment, one could see the hurt there. Yet, it was so brief, so fleeting, that when the prince had once again composed himself, it was a wonder if he even felt at all.

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