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tembovu
Those who stand for nothing fall for anything.
The lovely, splashed woman allowed his gentle touch beneath her horn—a relief to the King to know that her grief was not so deep as to be beyond the reach of his offered solace. Mbwene’s trunk stilled in the lacing of her tail as the ivory and chestnut mare began to speak—her navy eyes peering around the Glazier’s hocks to stare accusingly at her bonded. Her blameful glare was caused equal parts by the King not realizing this before this moment and unknowingly provoking Anzanie’s grief.
As she spoke, the Elephant slowly withdrew his muzzle from her forehead. He shifted backwards, putting distance between them, as his navy gaze probed her pale eyes. Gradually, all the pieces began to fit together—all the irregular edges of Anzanie’s strange behavior towards him, her general downtrodden behavior, and her intermittent anger (so out-of-place for the genteel woman) began to fit together as she haltingly explained herself.
And, for the first time since the King had first met the mare that day of clearing away glass shards, he was at a loss of what to say. This was the woman who had encouraged him to keep the lion’s claw that still hung at his chest because it was from someone he loved. This was the woman that encouraged him to pursue Rexanna’s love, so long ago. And so he was no small part shocked and nonplussed that, for her, their close bond of friendship had morphed into something more.
A soft sigh pushed out of his flared nostrils; brows raised in consternation. “Anzanie, I—” but his deep voice broke off, uncertain as to what to follow it with. Mbwene, who hadn’t retreated, began to once again twine and untwine her trunk in Anzanie’s tail, feeding off of the Elephant’s uncertainty and discomfort. Silence stretched, navy eyes unable to look away but voice unable to articulate anything of meaning.
He wanted to give her something, anything, because he felt he owed that to her for as deep as their friendship ran. And so, halting, he tried once more, “Anzanie, you are one of my closest friends. And I hold you close to my heart. But I have made promises to Rexanna, and I cannot—will not—break them. I am sorry, my dear friend, I do not wish to cause you more pain…” his tongue searched for more—some offer of solace or solution to this impasse, but found none.
As she spoke, the Elephant slowly withdrew his muzzle from her forehead. He shifted backwards, putting distance between them, as his navy gaze probed her pale eyes. Gradually, all the pieces began to fit together—all the irregular edges of Anzanie’s strange behavior towards him, her general downtrodden behavior, and her intermittent anger (so out-of-place for the genteel woman) began to fit together as she haltingly explained herself.
And, for the first time since the King had first met the mare that day of clearing away glass shards, he was at a loss of what to say. This was the woman who had encouraged him to keep the lion’s claw that still hung at his chest because it was from someone he loved. This was the woman that encouraged him to pursue Rexanna’s love, so long ago. And so he was no small part shocked and nonplussed that, for her, their close bond of friendship had morphed into something more.
A soft sigh pushed out of his flared nostrils; brows raised in consternation. “Anzanie, I—” but his deep voice broke off, uncertain as to what to follow it with. Mbwene, who hadn’t retreated, began to once again twine and untwine her trunk in Anzanie’s tail, feeding off of the Elephant’s uncertainty and discomfort. Silence stretched, navy eyes unable to look away but voice unable to articulate anything of meaning.
He wanted to give her something, anything, because he felt he owed that to her for as deep as their friendship ran. And so, halting, he tried once more, “Anzanie, you are one of my closest friends. And I hold you close to my heart. But I have made promises to Rexanna, and I cannot—will not—break them. I am sorry, my dear friend, I do not wish to cause you more pain…” his tongue searched for more—some offer of solace or solution to this impasse, but found none.
@Anzanie
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