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12-04-2015, 09:33 PM
Again a voice calling for him rang over the Edge. It was not an unwelcome sound, though a seemingly more common one, lately. The Elephant paused his current contemplations, standing far above the sea on craggy, white cliffs. The voice sounded familiar… but only just. This, too, was seemingly more common, lately. Vaguely familiar voices that become abundantly clear once he actually saw the voice’s owner.
So, he supposed, it would be appropriate to advance towards the call. But he lingered, dark blue eyes closing as a vigorous uplift raced up the cliffs, filling his nostrils with cool sea scents and coating his neck with brine. It was invigorating and refreshing— clearing his mind of worries for a few prized moments. He breathed deep, deep chest expanding.
Then it was time, treasured moments fleeing with the waning zephyr, as his eyes snapped open. Turning on his heavy haunches, he began a slow and easy trot towards the Edge’s border. Though it was a long and time consuming trip, for he was at the furthest edge of the cliffs. Ah well, it was welcome exercise in the new coolness of Orangemoon. And, surely, the calling visitor would wait for his audience.
When he arrived at the source of the call, the fiery winged Nephele greeted his gaze. The mare who had chosen the Throat. And Erthe was ever present. He grinned at the filly, caught for a moment at how lanky she was becoming. No longer was she the young foal he had grown so close too— the realization sent a pang through his chest. Is this what it’s like to see one’s children grow up?
He slid the thoughts aside as he came to a halt aside the pearly, freezing filly. Thick nostrils flared slightly from his long bout of trotting, and a patch sweat darkened his silver buckskin to dark chocolate along the base of his neck. Turning his attention towards the orange-streaked woman, his low voice rolled “Hello Nephele. Helovia, and the Throat, seems to agree with you.” He smiled slightly as his eyes appreciated the musculature and sleekness to her black coat, “What brings you to the Edge?”
So, he supposed, it would be appropriate to advance towards the call. But he lingered, dark blue eyes closing as a vigorous uplift raced up the cliffs, filling his nostrils with cool sea scents and coating his neck with brine. It was invigorating and refreshing— clearing his mind of worries for a few prized moments. He breathed deep, deep chest expanding.
Then it was time, treasured moments fleeing with the waning zephyr, as his eyes snapped open. Turning on his heavy haunches, he began a slow and easy trot towards the Edge’s border. Though it was a long and time consuming trip, for he was at the furthest edge of the cliffs. Ah well, it was welcome exercise in the new coolness of Orangemoon. And, surely, the calling visitor would wait for his audience.
When he arrived at the source of the call, the fiery winged Nephele greeted his gaze. The mare who had chosen the Throat. And Erthe was ever present. He grinned at the filly, caught for a moment at how lanky she was becoming. No longer was she the young foal he had grown so close too— the realization sent a pang through his chest. Is this what it’s like to see one’s children grow up?
He slid the thoughts aside as he came to a halt aside the pearly, freezing filly. Thick nostrils flared slightly from his long bout of trotting, and a patch sweat darkened his silver buckskin to dark chocolate along the base of his neck. Turning his attention towards the orange-streaked woman, his low voice rolled “Hello Nephele. Helovia, and the Throat, seems to agree with you.” He smiled slightly as his eyes appreciated the musculature and sleekness to her black coat, “What brings you to the Edge?”
He paid for his sins. He was saved.
But some sins haunt us no matter how much we pay.
@Nephele
Please tag Tembovu.
