Nightmares and violent shapes
the state of dreaming
has left me numb

He loves how the night swallows the Sun, holding open the jagged teeth of the horizon, built of distant mountains that will someday fall under his reign, gracefully slipping the golden orb into its lips till it has faded completely. The desert swifting cools and off in its confines, coyotes howl. Their voices echo into the heart of the Throat like they’re the night itself laughing at how willing the desert is to change. He thinks about how it would feel to have such power constantly. It hangs in his head like a noose, taunting with the death of his dreams because now he has chosen to act as a God.
But the shadow king is aware of his restraints. In the more loving days of his youth, when Sikeax kept him to her side at all costs, showering him in the affections that even at this age never end, she had taken her sweet, heavenly voice and dutifully filled his trying ears with knowledge and lore. He guesses she does this with his new brother, one of half-blood and adoption that has showed him how to truly love another being, something he can’t scrape up for his other siblings despite his acknowledgement of their existences. Tyrath is truly the sibling worthy of sharing of his blood.
As the darkness settles in and begins to rest, stars now blanketing the sheet of black and the pale glow of the widening moon, the oasis builds with a slow pace from the floor of the desert. Feathering drags the grass and when the sand has ended entirely, his typically proudly held tail droops, etching trails into the grass before the dry, salty winds push them into a new direction.
Beneath a tree, he finds his family, stitched together with his mother’s sleeping form signalled by the constant glow of her blade. He questions if she worries for attention from predators, but pushes it away at the sight of his younger brother slight movement.
Regardless to whether the boy is asleep or awake, he still lowers his head to his level and presses the cold tips of his horns into the child’s hide. “Jön.” His voice never reaches above a whisper as he stands waiting, watching his moon eyes as his brother rises. “We can go for a swim in the lake while Mother and Goblin sleep.”
The pace that he begins with is slow, gradually allowing it to increase when he is sure that Tyrath has fully awaken, extending his own steps into long, unnecessary motions. A thought lingers in his head for no more than a few seconds. Something that is he is sure will give the boy some sort of challenge to prove that any training given by Apa has paid off.
“Ty.”
He lets his ears swivel in the direction of his company, waiting for a noise of acknowledgement or response. “Would you like to race to water?” Only a quick glance is given in the direction of the lake, searching out any bodies that might be hidden away in the darkness. “I’ll give you a headstart."

OOC: Permission to PP given.

Hungarian roughly translates to "follow"

zhu