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02-12-2017, 08:42 PM
They say an elephant’s eyes speak the greatest language
‘Dark spot run away.’
The King’s heavy head flew up, blades of rich grass clinging haphazardly to his muzzle as his navy eyes darted to Mbwene’s expectant bright blues at hearing her words through their bond. Her wrinkled grey brows were raised, her thick sensitive lips pursed in an expectantly disapproving line. Despite the lush growth of Birdsong, the Elephant King was growing lean; muscle still clung thickly to his body, but it was more defined now, not covered with its usual coat of well-nourished padding. The Edge’s needs had superseded his own, and so he was attempting to eat whenever he could.
However, it seemed that the Edge’s many needs has superseded the needs of his son, as well—as Mbwene sent him the image of Zubi’s darkly spotted hide galloping away from the Edge, towards the shore to the south.
A long breath pushed out of his nostrils, and he quickly swallowed what greenery was left in his mouth, before he, too, took off in a ground-covered and earth-quaking canter towards the ocean. His body was already spent, his mind tired, but he still pushed himself after his son.
Thick limbs flexed in the dune’s deep sand has he bridged their final swell. His black nostrils flared, sucking in the briny air of the ocean that now stretched before him, set aflame by a rapidly setting sun.
Navy eyes darted along the shore, pausing once to take in the sunset, before finding the dark (no longer small, his surprised mind found) silhouette that was his son. He took in the two, bright gold horns and instinctive paternal pride flared among the exhaustion as he slowly walked towards the handsome, mahogany child.
“Zubi,” his low voice sounded easily above the waves’ quiet lull. He paused, at a loss for words, navy eyes closely studying the dark colt with a loving pride that only a father could manage. And then, “How are you, my son?”
The King’s heavy head flew up, blades of rich grass clinging haphazardly to his muzzle as his navy eyes darted to Mbwene’s expectant bright blues at hearing her words through their bond. Her wrinkled grey brows were raised, her thick sensitive lips pursed in an expectantly disapproving line. Despite the lush growth of Birdsong, the Elephant King was growing lean; muscle still clung thickly to his body, but it was more defined now, not covered with its usual coat of well-nourished padding. The Edge’s needs had superseded his own, and so he was attempting to eat whenever he could.
However, it seemed that the Edge’s many needs has superseded the needs of his son, as well—as Mbwene sent him the image of Zubi’s darkly spotted hide galloping away from the Edge, towards the shore to the south.
A long breath pushed out of his nostrils, and he quickly swallowed what greenery was left in his mouth, before he, too, took off in a ground-covered and earth-quaking canter towards the ocean. His body was already spent, his mind tired, but he still pushed himself after his son.
Thick limbs flexed in the dune’s deep sand has he bridged their final swell. His black nostrils flared, sucking in the briny air of the ocean that now stretched before him, set aflame by a rapidly setting sun.
Navy eyes darted along the shore, pausing once to take in the sunset, before finding the dark (no longer small, his surprised mind found) silhouette that was his son. He took in the two, bright gold horns and instinctive paternal pride flared among the exhaustion as he slowly walked towards the handsome, mahogany child.
“Zubi,” his low voice sounded easily above the waves’ quiet lull. He paused, at a loss for words, navy eyes closely studying the dark colt with a loving pride that only a father could manage. And then, “How are you, my son?”
What else could make you feel so much without a word?
@Zubari
Please tag Tembovu.
