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Tembovu
Mbwene’s bright blue eyes widened slightly, her self-satisfied smirk fading as Alysanne’s bright green gaze looked at her with warmth. The small elephant’s head cocked slightly, ears slowly fanning out as her trunk raised in recognition and surprise at such a look from the Queen yet known to Mbwene as a source of angst and news that caused her bonded to leave her behind. But the warmth in her look and gentleness of her next words were entirely at odds with what the matriarch knew of Alysanne.
Tembovu could not help the small amount of amusement at the shock that flowed from Mbwene through their bond. The grouchy elephant had entirely made up her mind about the woman, until this moment. His navy gaze glanced between the Queen and his companion for a moment, before looking back to Alysanne’s small (but genuine) smile.
His brows raised as she revealed that a creature in the South had given her such trinkets—from their Goddess, no less. Prior to the Bramble Thicket fiasco, the King would have been happy for the Queen’s gift; now, however, he eyed it with equal parts admiration and suspicion. He felt that, with the Moon, few things came without a cost.
In the silence that stretch after her explaining where the trinkets came from, he shifted somewhat uneasily (for only their history of shouted arguments put the King on edge) and answered her previous question, ““Foals, and family, are weakness of mine, as well,” he chuckled softly, surprised to find something in common with his adversarial Queen,“ “Rexanna is doing well, as are Kiada and Kianzo. They seem unruly, though Rexanna chooses to remain in the Basin.” A shadow passed over his face as he admitted the last part; and it clung as dark line around his cobalt gaze. The King did not want Rexanna to raise their strong-willed, Dorobian children alone; but how was he to help if shackled by responsibility to the Edge?
As his words faded, his eyes again were attracted to her baubles as she shook her head; the light causing a lovely twinkling of the crystal. He continued to carefully study her necklace, especially as the Queen began to speak again (”There’s actually…”), her deep and steadying breath with closed eyes doing little to set the King at ease.
Their conversation had been too pleasant, to easy, thus far for it to last. His lips pressed slightly as he waited for her hesitant words. ”I’m on a quest for our Goddess…” He closely studied the intricate mingling of crystals and amethysts of her necklace, trying to will away the tension and sudden uneasy concern that leapt into his barrel for the Queen. His mistrust of the Goddess was heightened, now, and to be on a quest for her, by oneself… It did not sound safe nor sane.
”You see, when I didn’t heal myself…” His eyes riveted to hers, then, quietly listening—though the lines around his mouth grew more pronounced as he pursed his thick, black lips tighter together. His forcing her to heal herself had prolonged her quest for the Goddess? His ears tilted back, unsure of which emotion swelled largest in his chest: anger at himself, annoyance at Alysanne for not telling him this, or exasperation at the both of them.
““I am sorry I insisted you to heal yourself, Alysanne. If I had known, I would have tried to understand and perhaps would have not been so forceful,” his deep voice finally rolled after a long moment of contemplative silence. He paused again, searching the woman’s ebony, lovely face, ““What is the reason for your quest?” His hide twitched as a few, remaining needles finally slipped from his coarse hair; his great skull was dropped to be level with his Queen’s.
Tembovu could not help the small amount of amusement at the shock that flowed from Mbwene through their bond. The grouchy elephant had entirely made up her mind about the woman, until this moment. His navy gaze glanced between the Queen and his companion for a moment, before looking back to Alysanne’s small (but genuine) smile.
His brows raised as she revealed that a creature in the South had given her such trinkets—from their Goddess, no less. Prior to the Bramble Thicket fiasco, the King would have been happy for the Queen’s gift; now, however, he eyed it with equal parts admiration and suspicion. He felt that, with the Moon, few things came without a cost.
In the silence that stretch after her explaining where the trinkets came from, he shifted somewhat uneasily (for only their history of shouted arguments put the King on edge) and answered her previous question, ““Foals, and family, are weakness of mine, as well,” he chuckled softly, surprised to find something in common with his adversarial Queen,“ “Rexanna is doing well, as are Kiada and Kianzo. They seem unruly, though Rexanna chooses to remain in the Basin.” A shadow passed over his face as he admitted the last part; and it clung as dark line around his cobalt gaze. The King did not want Rexanna to raise their strong-willed, Dorobian children alone; but how was he to help if shackled by responsibility to the Edge?
As his words faded, his eyes again were attracted to her baubles as she shook her head; the light causing a lovely twinkling of the crystal. He continued to carefully study her necklace, especially as the Queen began to speak again (”There’s actually…”), her deep and steadying breath with closed eyes doing little to set the King at ease.
Their conversation had been too pleasant, to easy, thus far for it to last. His lips pressed slightly as he waited for her hesitant words. ”I’m on a quest for our Goddess…” He closely studied the intricate mingling of crystals and amethysts of her necklace, trying to will away the tension and sudden uneasy concern that leapt into his barrel for the Queen. His mistrust of the Goddess was heightened, now, and to be on a quest for her, by oneself… It did not sound safe nor sane.
”You see, when I didn’t heal myself…” His eyes riveted to hers, then, quietly listening—though the lines around his mouth grew more pronounced as he pursed his thick, black lips tighter together. His forcing her to heal herself had prolonged her quest for the Goddess? His ears tilted back, unsure of which emotion swelled largest in his chest: anger at himself, annoyance at Alysanne for not telling him this, or exasperation at the both of them.
““I am sorry I insisted you to heal yourself, Alysanne. If I had known, I would have tried to understand and perhaps would have not been so forceful,” his deep voice finally rolled after a long moment of contemplative silence. He paused again, searching the woman’s ebony, lovely face, ““What is the reason for your quest?” His hide twitched as a few, remaining needles finally slipped from his coarse hair; his great skull was dropped to be level with his Queen’s.
@Alysanne
Please tag Tembovu.
