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Ever since the arrival of Kiuaji, the Elephant had been fighting the urge to return to the Threshold— there was so much to do in the Edge. The herd was growing, crafts needed building, warriors needed spars… And yet, he had left with Kiuaji back towards the Threshold, something pulling him along.
The walk was long, but entertaining as he and his childhood friend reveled in memories; the effeminate Aji, shrouded in linens, tricking and teasing soldiers to spar over his attentions, only to reveal his gender after a winner was announced. Hasovir, in all his haughty irritation, drunk off Aji’s potions and stuck in the bubbling mud pits; the grey hadn’t washed out of his coat for days. The time Tembovu, himself, had found the crazy urge to learn to swim in the first, torrential downpour of the Rainy Season… it had taken the strongest of men in their tribe to rescue the great oaf when his heavy bulk swiftly sank to the bottom.
It was these pleasant memories that were focused on, with Kiu’s dry wit and barbed humor bringing booming laughs from the Elephant. The distance was made short by the company, with the King interspersing their reminiscing with occasional tidbits of Helovian history and landmarks that he knew. What he did not know was the reason for his incessant need to revisit the Threshold.
Perhaps it was hope, rekindled since Aji’s arrival— but hope for what? The trees began to thicken, leaving little room for the hulking man to fit between the trunks. Aji’s slender chest was less of an obstacle, but the breadth of Tembovu’s made it impossible to walk abreast. So he naturally took the lead, as he had when they were foals, habit returning with comfortable ease.
But this old routine, this faux contentment, was ended as abruptly as Tembovu’s halted hooves. There, in the break of trees that marked the furthest edges of Helovia, stood the lioness, swathed in light. Her gaze, as bright and blue as he remembered, wandered over land that stretched before her. Though, this time, her eyes were restless and overwhelmed— unlike his last encounter with the woman. They had been half-lidded, sated eyes darkened with what he suspected was guilt.
Slowly, thick columns of cream and onyx break through the trees. Caution and surprise etch the hardened lines of his buckskin hide, great head lowered to the level of his withers as he approaches this ruined ghost from his past. “Tsavo?” The question, rhetorical and riddled with disbelief, rumbles from his chest, “How— how are you here?” His nostrils flared, unknowingly searching for the scent of plains, sun, and baked earth.
The walk was long, but entertaining as he and his childhood friend reveled in memories; the effeminate Aji, shrouded in linens, tricking and teasing soldiers to spar over his attentions, only to reveal his gender after a winner was announced. Hasovir, in all his haughty irritation, drunk off Aji’s potions and stuck in the bubbling mud pits; the grey hadn’t washed out of his coat for days. The time Tembovu, himself, had found the crazy urge to learn to swim in the first, torrential downpour of the Rainy Season… it had taken the strongest of men in their tribe to rescue the great oaf when his heavy bulk swiftly sank to the bottom.
It was these pleasant memories that were focused on, with Kiu’s dry wit and barbed humor bringing booming laughs from the Elephant. The distance was made short by the company, with the King interspersing their reminiscing with occasional tidbits of Helovian history and landmarks that he knew. What he did not know was the reason for his incessant need to revisit the Threshold.
Perhaps it was hope, rekindled since Aji’s arrival— but hope for what? The trees began to thicken, leaving little room for the hulking man to fit between the trunks. Aji’s slender chest was less of an obstacle, but the breadth of Tembovu’s made it impossible to walk abreast. So he naturally took the lead, as he had when they were foals, habit returning with comfortable ease.
But this old routine, this faux contentment, was ended as abruptly as Tembovu’s halted hooves. There, in the break of trees that marked the furthest edges of Helovia, stood the lioness, swathed in light. Her gaze, as bright and blue as he remembered, wandered over land that stretched before her. Though, this time, her eyes were restless and overwhelmed— unlike his last encounter with the woman. They had been half-lidded, sated eyes darkened with what he suspected was guilt.
Slowly, thick columns of cream and onyx break through the trees. Caution and surprise etch the hardened lines of his buckskin hide, great head lowered to the level of his withers as he approaches this ruined ghost from his past. “Tsavo?” The question, rhetorical and riddled with disbelief, rumbles from his chest, “How— how are you here?” His nostrils flared, unknowingly searching for the scent of plains, sun, and baked earth.
Tembovu
the Elephant King
@Kiuaji
Please tag Tembovu.
