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04-07-2016, 06:59 PM
Tembovu & Mbwene
He the interior of the Edge, leaving his childhood friend and their bloody sparring-grounds behind. It seemed, as he took account of the shredded and bleeding hide over his shoulder, that the the serpent had learned much in the ways of self-dense in the time they had spent apart. He supposed (perhaps conceitedly, but wholly truthfully) that Kiuaji’s protection fled with his own disappearance. Though his poisons were deadly, they did not make up for brute strength when one comes to kill you. So, he mused, in his limping gait, the serpent needed to hone his battle skills.
In the calm and quiet (too quiet), he kept his mind turning — lest he let it wanted to darker, shadowed places. His new magic, that of shifting into an Elephant, was so much easier to control than the first magic; the enraged magmaphants. It was a strange transformation, so immobile, yet the power and strength he felt after… it was intoxicating. For the first time, he felt small in his own hide, compared to the gargantuan elephant bull he had been—
His head snapped up, looking through the trees towards the near cliffs. The scream that rent the stillness went on and on— familiar and foreign in the same breath. Regardless, his limping walk burst into a slow, sore lope towards the source of the sound. He was in no state to truly defend, but he felt his duty as King pull him towards the sound.
“Erthe?” The question is out of his thick lips the moment he sees the pearlest, white rump of the filly. Though, as he knows, she is a filly no longer. She is a yearling, long legs and lanky frame; but the Elephant still things of her as the foal-fuzz youth that barged into the Threshold, full of curiosity and pomp. Perhaps he always would.
Mbwene shuffled behind him, bumping into his haunches at his sudden halt when he his navy gaze had alighted on thefilly young woman. “Where have you been? And what are you screaming for?” His low rumble sounds the two, most pressing questions on his mind, while Mbwene meandered forward, trunk covered in some of his dried blood, ears flapping in greeting and bright blue eyes curiously studying this filly. She had felt many things through their bond, but this feeling, of protective care, was new.
In the calm and quiet (too quiet), he kept his mind turning — lest he let it wanted to darker, shadowed places. His new magic, that of shifting into an Elephant, was so much easier to control than the first magic; the enraged magmaphants. It was a strange transformation, so immobile, yet the power and strength he felt after… it was intoxicating. For the first time, he felt small in his own hide, compared to the gargantuan elephant bull he had been—
His head snapped up, looking through the trees towards the near cliffs. The scream that rent the stillness went on and on— familiar and foreign in the same breath. Regardless, his limping walk burst into a slow, sore lope towards the source of the sound. He was in no state to truly defend, but he felt his duty as King pull him towards the sound.
“Erthe?” The question is out of his thick lips the moment he sees the pearlest, white rump of the filly. Though, as he knows, she is a filly no longer. She is a yearling, long legs and lanky frame; but the Elephant still things of her as the foal-fuzz youth that barged into the Threshold, full of curiosity and pomp. Perhaps he always would.
Mbwene shuffled behind him, bumping into his haunches at his sudden halt when he his navy gaze had alighted on the
SORRY I TOOK SO LONG <3
I also set it after his spar with Kiuaji, so I left his wounds nebulous :P
Please tag Tembovu.
