tembovu

Those who stand for nothing fall for anything.

He answered Alune’s laugh with a small chuckle of his own, “I don’t think she’d even try,” he replies through his low rumbling mirth in regards to taming Edgar’s impish spirit. It was a battle lost before even begun. And how boring the Zephyr would be, if not for his rascally ways.

His chuckle died off as the starry steed answers his question. He speaks of his home, of being the Moon’s Oracle, of being predestined for communing with the Night Woman from the womb. The Elephant’s ears flick forward, interested— for, despite being born to his abnormal height, he was not generally a believer in ‘fates’ or ‘destines.’ So to hear that another was chosen as such perplexed him.

Though it seems, as he had seen repeatedly in the Threshold, that Helovia had stripped him of his birthright. But not of his faith— no, that he appeared to retain wholly. Again, the uncertainty he had felt while mollifying Mauja and his overwhelming grief raised its perplexed head. He was not certain as to where his faith laid. Certainly it was absent in Dorobo, for those gods had died in the face of an empire’s greed.

But here, the gods were very much alive. So Tembovu face not a crisis of faith, but a burgeoning faith altogether. Where would it lead? What did it mean?

In the face of such an impressionable state, unease immediately erupted in his barrel. He was not a sheep, he had corralled and worked with sheep his entire life. He wished to make an informed decision about his faith. He needed to speak with faithful oracles, like Alune, and forsaken kings, like Mauja, and perhaps even the Moon Lady, herself. Perhaps then there would be an answer for the King.

But, now, all he knew was that faith was alive and strong in Helovia. As were the gods. So, despite his personal beliefs, his herd needed religious guidance.

He returned to the man before him, listening to his words despite his mind’s circular thinking. “The very hide I wear is crafted from her touch.” Dark blue eyes glance over it, “Ah, well that explains its magnificence,” he grins and motions his large horn over the spectacular pelt in Alune’s momentary pause between words.

He speaks of the Moon’s balance of power— perhaps the the Dark Lady is more akin to his heart than he thought. He assumed his alignment would be with the Sun… But had he not begot the fall of an Empire and death of its unjust leaders in order to ensure there was a balance of power? Food for thought, indeed. He hums in thought as the indigo man finishes his answer and, in turn, questions him.

His gaze, which had wandered to the ocean, returns to intently study the moon-marked face before meeting the strange, pupil-less eyes. “Crowns are heavy for a reason.” Were they ever, the image of a slain daughter stained with blood flashes in his mind. There was no glory in his crown, which made it all the heavier. Watching the bladed face closely, he began to answer the questions, perhaps audaciously asked, of a King, “My crown, as heavy as you call it, is also fairly new. So, aside from mastering this new duty, I also wonder what will bring the Edge together. To align its members either in ideals or in the path of the Moon, as you follow.” He pauses, watching his fellow giant, “Do you’ve any ideas?”

His question fades as he chooses not to share his own heart’s woes. There were more important matters at hand… At least, less painful ones to speak of.