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06-17-2012, 08:44 PM
A nicker rumbled through his thick neck as the grulla affirmed his notions of their relations. She was a gentle mare, he could see, the softness in her eyes touched some part of him - what, he could not dare say, but his heart ached terribly nevertheless.
Smoke went on to speak about his family - Aerwen, his mother; Aysun, her mother. Silverline...his father. A tender, fuzz-encrusted nostril quivered and a dark-tipped ear twitched. His family. Where were they now? Aysun was long dead, he knew, and so was Gunslinger. Silverline, the silver father, healer, soldier, was gone as well, and Aerwen, his gunmetal warrior mother with her Rosso, missing, likely slain.
Run.
Both ears tilted back in the dark confusion of the memory, the acrid scent of blood fresh in his nose. He ran as fast as his ungainly newborn legs could carry him through the Gateway and beyond, frightened beyond fear, shadows chasing him, running through foreign lands and to lonely bronze dragon eggs laying unattended in the sun. He did what they told them to do, for he was a good child, a quiet child, an obedient child.
Sadness sat at his breast like an unwelcome friend, threatening to choke him and maim his poor heart beyond repair. Jackal bit them back unsuccessfully, the wave of memories - hazy sunny days on his beach-home, beneath the canopy of mother's protective belly; traipsing through the soft warm sands with his dam's red and playing in the waves as brilliantly blue as lapis lazuli. Palm trees shading him from the noon sun as he slept, the vigilant guard of his parents as he dreamed of sunny days and starry nights.
Dei nudged him gently with a clawed paw and the appaloosa's downcast eyes turned to focus on Smoke, the mother of his aunt, one of his own. He could feel the wetness on his eyes, the fist in his throat. She asked him what brought him here. The dun huffed, wondering as well, feeling as though he was ripped in two. The young bronze, heavy with sadness as well, clambered onto the bonded's thick crest, burying his slender face in the thick, upright mane.
Home? offered the colt to his friend, turning back, blue-grey and jade meeting, agreeing. A minute smile graced his otherwise melancholy face and he swung his head towards Smoke. "A home. And family." Or whatever I have left.
And as Zaffre sang, another voice joined in quiet harmony.
[sorry these are so...long :<]
Smoke went on to speak about his family - Aerwen, his mother; Aysun, her mother. Silverline...his father. A tender, fuzz-encrusted nostril quivered and a dark-tipped ear twitched. His family. Where were they now? Aysun was long dead, he knew, and so was Gunslinger. Silverline, the silver father, healer, soldier, was gone as well, and Aerwen, his gunmetal warrior mother with her Rosso, missing, likely slain.
Run.
Both ears tilted back in the dark confusion of the memory, the acrid scent of blood fresh in his nose. He ran as fast as his ungainly newborn legs could carry him through the Gateway and beyond, frightened beyond fear, shadows chasing him, running through foreign lands and to lonely bronze dragon eggs laying unattended in the sun. He did what they told them to do, for he was a good child, a quiet child, an obedient child.
Sadness sat at his breast like an unwelcome friend, threatening to choke him and maim his poor heart beyond repair. Jackal bit them back unsuccessfully, the wave of memories - hazy sunny days on his beach-home, beneath the canopy of mother's protective belly; traipsing through the soft warm sands with his dam's red and playing in the waves as brilliantly blue as lapis lazuli. Palm trees shading him from the noon sun as he slept, the vigilant guard of his parents as he dreamed of sunny days and starry nights.
Dei nudged him gently with a clawed paw and the appaloosa's downcast eyes turned to focus on Smoke, the mother of his aunt, one of his own. He could feel the wetness on his eyes, the fist in his throat. She asked him what brought him here. The dun huffed, wondering as well, feeling as though he was ripped in two. The young bronze, heavy with sadness as well, clambered onto the bonded's thick crest, burying his slender face in the thick, upright mane.
Home? offered the colt to his friend, turning back, blue-grey and jade meeting, agreeing. A minute smile graced his otherwise melancholy face and he swung his head towards Smoke. "A home. And family." Or whatever I have left.
And as Zaffre sang, another voice joined in quiet harmony.
[sorry these are so...long :<]
