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Archibald stared out over the water's surface, watching as the still lake was disturbed by the occasional bird that swooped down to gather a beak full of water or a fish the snatched an insect off the surface. This place was so serene, and Archibald had spewed the darkness of his history and his life from his darkened heart into this place. It was vile and he felt dirty. His face was hard, his features cut from marble, his eyes two solid chunks of gold within the ebon fur. Loretta pressed her body into his, her own heart weighing heavy with the storm within his chiseled breast. Her eyes cast down and to the side as she looked at her bondmate, ears lowering in her lowered state of emotion. Her tail thumped against the loamy soil, and a small whine lifted from the depths of her throat. The bitch moved so that she was a in a half-laying position, resting her chin on the thick stallion's rump. Macaria is safe with her brothers. Do not forget that. Archibald heaved a breath, and cast his eyes up to the dun.
She spoke of her history, and Archibald gave a nod. He understood the hole that the loss of children left in one's heart. It was a cold, empty, endless void that threatened to devour the whole of the soul. The stallion blinked at her comment of him becoming a stone. It was true. He was a rock. Hard, cold, apathetic, emotionless...
Archibald shifted his weight and Loretta sprang up in time for the behemoth to gather his weight once more on his solid, tan hooves that were covered by his thick feathers. Archibald moved his massive head towards Resplendence and breathed heavily through his nostrils, trying to send more comfort her way to diminish her trembling. Cloudy, stormy, guarded eyes grew with a slight glisten, and a lump rose in the Dauntless' throat at the mention of his daughter. "Thank you," Archibald said to the mare. It was but a mere whisper compared to the normal baritone of his voice. His confidence was not lost, but the moment needed only silence, and even his whisper was a mar to the compassion that the tiny claybank showered him in.
ARCHIBALD the DAUNTLESS Call out to nobody, call out to me Chip on the shoulder, the dime in the teeth |
I've been known for my hate,
but I'm a dealer of simple choices;
for me it's never too late.
please tag me
