.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
02-26-2014, 12:50 PM
|
CIRCE The shadowmere was not met with any sort of resistance nor, indeed, any sort of apprehension from the child, such was his fear and weakness. Circe stood with practiced ease as the little boy found her warm, swollen mammary, the only twist to this rather frequent exercise being the accommodation of the added bulk of the young one’s wings. Otherwise, there was no real novelty in the experience for Circe, for she was a mother, and hea hungry child. And did he drink! Though ounce for ounce he did not consume as much as her sons did, he nonetheless attacked her teat with a voraciousness she hadn’t encountered for some months. Nowadays her vagrant sons would try her milk and let it sit on their tongue, though recently they had taken to the grains and grasses for the bulk of their nourishment. This was clearly not the case for this young fledgling, who quaffed gallons in relation to his size. As he drunk, Circe could see the line of his stomach begin to protrude slightly, and when he finally pulled away, the shadowmere was not surprised to see him exhausted and lulled by the comfort of a full belly. Her heart glowed at the sight of his settled nerves, for the fear seemed to have left him—or at least, it did not consume him. She met his wary gaze with her own azure stare, yet while he seemed careful in his approach to her, the shadowmere had nothing but tenderness to give to this child. For indeed, what did he deserve but her tenderness? He was lost—and surely, he needed a helping hand to guide him to his mother’s hip once again? She smiled as he thanked her for the meal. “It is no problem,” she replied, warm and throaty as she watched him settled down into the moss, clearly spent from the ordeals of the day. Even his name sounded hazy on his lips as he offered it. “Kari,” Circe repeated, rolling it on her tongue, “a nice name. And I am Circe, young one. It is nice to meet you.” She paused, wondering if she should question him further. Her earlier inquiries had been lost amid his roiling fear; she suspected they would be lost again in the midst of his exhaustion. Lowering her head to offer a touch on his brow, Circe murmured, “Sleep for now; I will keep watch over you.” It was best, she decided, for him to be lucid and alert when she questioned him about his whereabouts, so that she may end the agony of whichever mare lost her child among the chaos of the tunnels and the plague beyond. Circe walked some paces from where the child, Kari, had settled, dipping her head to graze lightly in order to bolster her own energy—all the while keeping a vigilant eye on the fragile child. [TIME SKIP MAYBE?!] |
