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11-18-2015, 10:57 PM
Tembovu
the Elephant
A giant stood among the swirling mists that lingered in the trees, protected by the morning’s dampness and moon’s magic. The heat of noon did nothing to the thick soup that pervaded the numerous trunks, and the Elephant King silently watched the eddies and swells of the fog around him.
He had come to appreciate the unique beauty of the Edge’s mist— nearly enjoying even the cool wetness that accompanied it. The moist air decorated his pale buckskin coat with a film of dew that glittered in the afternoon’s sun, a glimmering statue surveying the boundaries of the Edge.
Ephemerally he drifted in and out of view with the ever-shifting mist. Azure gaze casts skyward once, watching crows squawk their irritation at an overzealous hawk. Thick, grey lips press in a small, amused smile. Raptors were forever trying to raid nests for meals, never checking if the parents are nearby. They rarely learn. Could equines?
His question was answered as his eyes tracked slowly back to earth, catching a black shadow molding itself along a chunk of glass (that he must have missed while cleaning as Glazier— it was a never-ending job). The equine form shifted into amorphous shapes as it moved along the broken glass, until finally appearing at an opening in the failed wall.
He studied her, unmoving from his statuesque stance, perked cream ears twitching at her shrill whinny. A slight mare of normal build, her coat was a deep and light-eating ebony. She was a flighted equine, yet her left wing fell awkwardly from her shoulder. Thick nostrils flare— she did not smell of the Edge and he had not seen her here before. He had become comfortable in knowing all those who now lived in the Edge— his herd.
Gently shaking his head at such a thought (never would he imagined to have leadership over such a thing), a shiver runs through his thick hide to dislodge the majority dew droplets. A glistening spray surrounds his massive body for a moment before his long, rolling strides being to take his heavy form towards the inquiring mare.
Large hooves and long legs make short time of the distance, and he is quickly standing in front of the shadowed mare. “Who is it you are calling for, black-wings?” Low and rumbling, the slightest undertones of authority color the congenialness to his question as his blue eyes questioningly meet her dark ones.
He had come to appreciate the unique beauty of the Edge’s mist— nearly enjoying even the cool wetness that accompanied it. The moist air decorated his pale buckskin coat with a film of dew that glittered in the afternoon’s sun, a glimmering statue surveying the boundaries of the Edge.
Ephemerally he drifted in and out of view with the ever-shifting mist. Azure gaze casts skyward once, watching crows squawk their irritation at an overzealous hawk. Thick, grey lips press in a small, amused smile. Raptors were forever trying to raid nests for meals, never checking if the parents are nearby. They rarely learn. Could equines?
His question was answered as his eyes tracked slowly back to earth, catching a black shadow molding itself along a chunk of glass (that he must have missed while cleaning as Glazier— it was a never-ending job). The equine form shifted into amorphous shapes as it moved along the broken glass, until finally appearing at an opening in the failed wall.
He studied her, unmoving from his statuesque stance, perked cream ears twitching at her shrill whinny. A slight mare of normal build, her coat was a deep and light-eating ebony. She was a flighted equine, yet her left wing fell awkwardly from her shoulder. Thick nostrils flare— she did not smell of the Edge and he had not seen her here before. He had become comfortable in knowing all those who now lived in the Edge— his herd.
Gently shaking his head at such a thought (never would he imagined to have leadership over such a thing), a shiver runs through his thick hide to dislodge the majority dew droplets. A glistening spray surrounds his massive body for a moment before his long, rolling strides being to take his heavy form towards the inquiring mare.
Large hooves and long legs make short time of the distance, and he is quickly standing in front of the shadowed mare. “Who is it you are calling for, black-wings?” Low and rumbling, the slightest undertones of authority color the congenialness to his question as his blue eyes questioningly meet her dark ones.
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