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The Elephant King is relieved as the ashen warmth of her skin against his supporting legs shifts, moves, and up she rises onto ash and red stained limbs. A glance towards her legs for leeches shows him, instead, their weak trembling and he immediately leans his great mass against her quaking form in support. His ears lay back slightly as he can see the tremors of loss physically wrack her star-studded skin. His navy gaze watches her own silver eyes shutter close in pain. Gently, his warm muzzle reaches towards her neck, as his body presses against hers in support, in an attempt to quiet and calm her trembles.
He followed her out of the scarlet waters, eyes carefully watching to make sure that she did not slip on the rough, rubied bottom. And then he is there alongside her as she presses her ashen, dripping face into his chest. Black-rimmed ears twitch at her raspy, broken voice; his navy gaze stares, unseeing, into the ruby waters that reflected red on his glassy stare.
Though he did not feel her tears amid the water that had already wet his chest, he did lower his skull and gently cradle her head with his neck. “I am sorry you are going through this,” was his quiet murmur. He said no more on the matter, because he knew that this was beyond words. This kind of pain and loss spoke in screams and sobs; in conversed thrashing nightmares and the stomach-drop of dreadful mornings when you awake to a world without them.
So, instead, he simply said, “Let’s get you back to the Edge. The Doctors can heal any injuries you have. And they may have some herbs for dreamless sleep.” The physical injuries could be healed, at least. But he did not say that, instead gently lipping her damp, cream strands of mane as he held her.
He followed her out of the scarlet waters, eyes carefully watching to make sure that she did not slip on the rough, rubied bottom. And then he is there alongside her as she presses her ashen, dripping face into his chest. Black-rimmed ears twitch at her raspy, broken voice; his navy gaze stares, unseeing, into the ruby waters that reflected red on his glassy stare.
Though he did not feel her tears amid the water that had already wet his chest, he did lower his skull and gently cradle her head with his neck. “I am sorry you are going through this,” was his quiet murmur. He said no more on the matter, because he knew that this was beyond words. This kind of pain and loss spoke in screams and sobs; in conversed thrashing nightmares and the stomach-drop of dreadful mornings when you awake to a world without them.
So, instead, he simply said, “Let’s get you back to the Edge. The Doctors can heal any injuries you have. And they may have some herbs for dreamless sleep.” The physical injuries could be healed, at least. But he did not say that, instead gently lipping her damp, cream strands of mane as he held her.
Tembovu
you thought you could outrun the world
@Katerina We could wrap this up since it's so far back in his timeline? We can start a new thread with them? Lmk!
Please tag Tembovu.
