At the mention of the Isles, as dark shadow crossed the King’s face, eyes following her own strangely dual-hued gaze to the pearly foal. Indeed his own wounds were minor in comparison to Erthe’s— at least the physical ones. The god-battles had affected everyone in Helovia, in some grave way. The Edge had lost a King, even; his thoughts oddly echoed the congratulatory statements Nephele voiced. Brows rise that words had travelled so quickly and so far— though matters of leadership were important for all to know.
Unable to entirely shake the shadow in his navy eyes, he nodded with a small upturn of his lips, “Your birds speak the truth. Thank you.” Though he wasn’t, himself, certain that ‘congratulations’ were right— as his regency came with the price of a daughter’s spilled lifeblood. But it was neither the time nor place for discussing such dark topics— especially as Erthe voiced that she knew how to fly.
Surprise widened his eyes, he had not known his Specter had taught her to fly. Despite the stomach-dropping fear that struck him (as flying was such a foreign idea to him; and part of him envisioned the delicate filly falling from the skies), he felt a stab of pride that she had begun using her wings. Especially given the injury to her legs.
Navy eyes warmed at the revelation, and he outright smiled. “It’s more than alright, please come past the glass, Nephele,” baritone rumbled as he took a half-step backwards, inviting her in with his massive body. The filly was right, there was very little he could deny the pearly, smiling face.
@Nephele