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11-07-2016, 11:03 PM
only the dead have seen the end of war
Erthe’s flattened ears and purposefully askant gaze was not missed by the King—perhaps being denied thrice over was two times too many, the King belatedly realized. Yet the group’s focus was on finding the Frozen Light, not on preserving young mare’s mental states. But, still, the Elephant’s dark navy eyes watch her for a few moments, the directed barb at Roskuld about those who fly entirely escaping the King—as his flightless nature was a matter of circumstance. How could he take insult to something that his nature could not fix?
His attention shifted from the small, pearlescent mare to the stocky Sparklight that pressed into his chest and sputtering soundless words—words that ended abruptly with Erthe’s barb as Roskuld choked some wordless, irate sound and disappearing into a shower of sparks. The Elephant King grunted in surprise, gaze jerked to the movement of where Ros had reappeared. First Mesec had slipped into shadows, and now Ros could distinigrate into sparks? His brows raised, wondering yet again at their shared lineage, before being brought to the present by Ros’s angry stomping and tirade about ’rope.’
Truth be told, the King hadn’t exactly thought much on the fact of rope. His mind was more entrenched with the magic both Roskuld and Mesec had displayed. Perhaps his lack of urgency was because he knew that, no matter how long they took, Mauja would be alive. He would not die—could not die.
And then she appeared. The Moon Goddess, herself. His black brows rose, just as his thick horn dipped slightly in respect (though the King wasn’t entirely certain how much respect the Goddess held for any of those present). Idly, he wondered at how often he had recently found himself in the presence of the Goddess—but simply shook his head to clear such thoughts, because this moment was not about him.
It was about Mauja.
And the Frozen Light was wreathed in moon mist, pulled alongside the deity by her godly power. His navy gaze cannot help but to closely examine the frosted, speckled skin of his friend—a man he loved fiercely, yet their paths were tangled indeed. But he found too many angles in the usually smooth, silken coat. Too many bones protruding; the hollows above his gloriously icy eyes were deeply sunken— “Mauja,” the name was but a deep breath, spoken in shocked concern and unhappy surprise at seeing his friend so gauntly skeletal.
Slowly his attention shifted back to the Moon. “It indeed is a blessing that you came to our rescue, my Goddess,” his low voice finally rumbled in response to the stern look in the Goddess’s silver eyes. The smallest of unamused grins turning up the corners of his thick lips, coating his face in a mask—though the skin was creased around his navy eyes as he glanced towards Mesec, Roskuld, and Erthe in turn.
His attention shifted from the small, pearlescent mare to the stocky Sparklight that pressed into his chest and sputtering soundless words—words that ended abruptly with Erthe’s barb as Roskuld choked some wordless, irate sound and disappearing into a shower of sparks. The Elephant King grunted in surprise, gaze jerked to the movement of where Ros had reappeared. First Mesec had slipped into shadows, and now Ros could distinigrate into sparks? His brows raised, wondering yet again at their shared lineage, before being brought to the present by Ros’s angry stomping and tirade about ’rope.’
Truth be told, the King hadn’t exactly thought much on the fact of rope. His mind was more entrenched with the magic both Roskuld and Mesec had displayed. Perhaps his lack of urgency was because he knew that, no matter how long they took, Mauja would be alive. He would not die—could not die.
And then she appeared. The Moon Goddess, herself. His black brows rose, just as his thick horn dipped slightly in respect (though the King wasn’t entirely certain how much respect the Goddess held for any of those present). Idly, he wondered at how often he had recently found himself in the presence of the Goddess—but simply shook his head to clear such thoughts, because this moment was not about him.
It was about Mauja.
And the Frozen Light was wreathed in moon mist, pulled alongside the deity by her godly power. His navy gaze cannot help but to closely examine the frosted, speckled skin of his friend—a man he loved fiercely, yet their paths were tangled indeed. But he found too many angles in the usually smooth, silken coat. Too many bones protruding; the hollows above his gloriously icy eyes were deeply sunken— “Mauja,” the name was but a deep breath, spoken in shocked concern and unhappy surprise at seeing his friend so gauntly skeletal.
Slowly his attention shifted back to the Moon. “It indeed is a blessing that you came to our rescue, my Goddess,” his low voice finally rumbled in response to the stern look in the Goddess’s silver eyes. The smallest of unamused grins turning up the corners of his thick lips, coating his face in a mask—though the skin was creased around his navy eyes as he glanced towards Mesec, Roskuld, and Erthe in turn.
Tembovu
the elephant king
Please tag Tembovu.
