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the happy ending depends, of course...
Brows raise and ears strain forward as she struggled to rise before collapsing and giving into the obvious exhaustion that sagged on her face and body. The tendrils of sleep were quickly retreating as concern replaced the cloudiness of slumber. But her head gingerly raised, soft hazel eyes meeting his gaze as she answered his questions and asked some in return. His eyes glanced to Mbwene, who still happily slumbered, tucked into his barrel, blissfully still beneath the spell Myrrine’s magic wove. Being bonded to a stallion prone to insomnia had been arduous for the elephant calf, so she was not yet willing to rouse.
His voice rolled in answer to her questions, quiet and throaty, “Your humming did not wake me, it… I heard it, saw it, in my dream. I saw a memory, an old one, that I had forgotten— in Dorobo, of Mara and the birth of my son… So do not apologize, Myrrine. I should be thanking you.” His slightly unstrung sentences faltered to explain just what had happened in his dream. Dark blue eyes glaze for a moment, as the saturated dream-images drift behind them— how could have have forgotten that day? He had sworn he would always remember it. How could the day he found their bodies have become more readily accessible in his mind than that memory? Shadows pierced the happy calm that the dream had created.
Concern came crashing in with the shadows neck instinctively outstretching to the spotted woman as she laid her head back onto the ground once again, “Are you alright, Myrrine?” His broad muzzle sought to… to touch her neck in some sign of comfort and gratitude— she did not understand how great the boon was that she had given him. But then she was moving, and asking and righting herself. “I have not slept that well in years,” the truth of his words was told by the timbre beneath them, “Does your magic always leave you this exhausted?” If it didn’t, the Elephant King might need to enlist her talents again— to escape the present for the past.
His voice rolled in answer to her questions, quiet and throaty, “Your humming did not wake me, it… I heard it, saw it, in my dream. I saw a memory, an old one, that I had forgotten— in Dorobo, of Mara and the birth of my son… So do not apologize, Myrrine. I should be thanking you.” His slightly unstrung sentences faltered to explain just what had happened in his dream. Dark blue eyes glaze for a moment, as the saturated dream-images drift behind them— how could have have forgotten that day? He had sworn he would always remember it. How could the day he found their bodies have become more readily accessible in his mind than that memory? Shadows pierced the happy calm that the dream had created.
Concern came crashing in with the shadows neck instinctively outstretching to the spotted woman as she laid her head back onto the ground once again, “Are you alright, Myrrine?” His broad muzzle sought to… to touch her neck in some sign of comfort and gratitude— she did not understand how great the boon was that she had given him. But then she was moving, and asking and righting herself. “I have not slept that well in years,” the truth of his words was told by the timbre beneath them, “Does your magic always leave you this exhausted?” If it didn’t, the Elephant King might need to enlist her talents again— to escape the present for the past.
...on when you end your story.
@Myrrine
Please tag Tembovu.
