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04-10-2016, 08:31 AM
the elephant king
Long, thick limbs felt the uneasy groans of limestone through his ivory hooves. The white cliffs were beautiful, slowly shedding their film of ice and snow in the new season— but they were still made of the crumbling shells from long-dead sea life. Yet the King still stood, square and still, at their edge; perhaps because he felt he knew how much of his massive weight these cliffs could take. A bowed neck and glassy, navy stare belied the deep contemplation into which he had sunk; though (thankfully) his thoughts were not cast in shadow as the so usually were.
He was a father.
The thought made his hide ripple once with wrinkled grey, so intense was his elation that it drew out his larger, elephantine form to contain it. But that body would collapse the cliffs beneath him— and so he shifted backwards a few steps, in case he was unable to retain his equine body.
But, had he halted, his eyes saw the bright, clear blue eyes and the two swirls of fuzz that promised to be horns. And the wings, did he ever think he’d have a child (a son) with wings? An unconscious grin grew on his muzzle, adding creases of happiness to his face amid the many saddened lines that had grown there over the years. It lightened his navy eyes.
Hawezi, his son, named for strength. Both the strength he promised to have, and the strength he gave his sire in a time where the Elephant was faltering. His ears tilted backwards once, as thoughts of the tip of his horn against a white chest, seeing the siren ragged and worn, and standing beneath the wing of a broken dove all flashed through his mind. But the warmth in his barrel did not falter, despite all these thoughts.
He head swung to the side, unseeing eyes leaving the misted horizon to sharpen on the trees. Perhaps he should return to Elsa and his son? He had left only at her behest (he was hovering, and the militant Queen needed to rest with her child), but had insisted Mbwene stay with them. Now, though, perhaps he could return? Surely it had been long enough…. He looked to the sun, and saw that it had barely moved in the sky.
He sighed, swinging his still-soft gaze back to the sea.
He was a father.
The thought made his hide ripple once with wrinkled grey, so intense was his elation that it drew out his larger, elephantine form to contain it. But that body would collapse the cliffs beneath him— and so he shifted backwards a few steps, in case he was unable to retain his equine body.
But, had he halted, his eyes saw the bright, clear blue eyes and the two swirls of fuzz that promised to be horns. And the wings, did he ever think he’d have a child (a son) with wings? An unconscious grin grew on his muzzle, adding creases of happiness to his face amid the many saddened lines that had grown there over the years. It lightened his navy eyes.
Hawezi, his son, named for strength. Both the strength he promised to have, and the strength he gave his sire in a time where the Elephant was faltering. His ears tilted backwards once, as thoughts of the tip of his horn against a white chest, seeing the siren ragged and worn, and standing beneath the wing of a broken dove all flashed through his mind. But the warmth in his barrel did not falter, despite all these thoughts.
He head swung to the side, unseeing eyes leaving the misted horizon to sharpen on the trees. Perhaps he should return to Elsa and his son? He had left only at her behest (he was hovering, and the militant Queen needed to rest with her child), but had insisted Mbwene stay with them. Now, though, perhaps he could return? Surely it had been long enough…. He looked to the sun, and saw that it had barely moved in the sky.
He sighed, swinging his still-soft gaze back to the sea.
tembovu
@Mauja
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