| World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT |
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Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen
smitty |
05-13-2016, 07:29 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-13-2016, 07:29 PM by Tembovu.)
The Elephant King was sleeping— something he had done more soundly since the arrival of Hawezi into the world. Except not in this moment, No, in this moment, his head jerked and hide twitched, eyes moving frantically beneath closed lids. But his body, despite its obvious desperation to move and rouse from this restless, torturing slumber was trapped inside his tormented dreams.
Rexanna had left him, slipping easily beneath the barrel of Ashamin, the Basin Priest, before his very eyes. Their entwined bodies surrounded by black, red, and golden foals. And Elsa— Elsa had, rightfully, forsaken him, taking both her friendship, affections, and their son away from him. He was alone, alone and forsaken by those he loved (Mauja had perished by Tembovu’s horn, Ascended immortality had failed him).
Flames roared high, tongues the shape of elephant trunks in their dreamstate. Trumpets and screams filled the air— he had set the Edge ablaze with his desperate solitude. He hadn’t meant to, but the fire swept the trees, backing his herd against the drop. The winged took to the sky, but the thick smoke made some of them fall. And those wingless ones— some screamed as flames took them while others jumped. A youthful cry split the air, calling for his father. “Hawezi,” his trumpet was lost to the sound of flames as he saw giraffe-marked skin, blue tipped wings, and white-rimmed eyes staring from an ash-streaked. It was a glimpse, a last, precious glimpse before his child fell over the cliffs to escape the flames.
But he had wings! Why didn’t he use his wings?! Because Tembovu lacked them, and had never taught him how to fly. He had failed his son— a failed father, lover, friend, and King.
Insistent prodding of his face, yanking of his ears, and pinching of his nose finally awoke him from his distressing dreams. Navy eyes flared open, meeting the bright blue eyes of Mbwene for a mere moment before, “Hawezi!” his bellow was loud and alarmed as he frantically scrambled to his hooves, mind still in the clutches of his nightmare.
Tembovu The Elephant King
 
Please tag Tembovu.
| Up For Adoption |
| Colt :: Hybrid :: 17.1hh :: FF Y7 |
| Adoptable |
 Reserving judgements is a matter of infinite hope.
You are a mundane dreamer.
The world to you is a simple thing. It is black and white, gold and green: it is the blue of the ocean, bright in your eyes, and the familiarity of family. You are content to frolic and to play, to wander and amble on a curiosity crusade. Sunlight washes across your skin and you sleep—when night falls you retrace your steps, back to your mother. She is tall and she is soft and she is a glowing beacon of purity in the night: you suckle and sleep, content to simply be. When the grass (sweet-smelling) forms a pillow beneath your head, you sleep and you dream of a simple life and happy things, not out of melancholy but because you have known nothing different. One day things will not be so happy. One day you will be a warrior, a guardian, a lover: one day you will be like your father, tall, strong, both proud and humble, epitome of paladin and crusader.
You want to be like him.
You don't realize just how complicated being like him would be.
You are, as you often are, wandering when he shouts to you, but you are not far. His voice rings out not in command but in panic, and you jerk to sharp salute. Your head turns, delicate nostrils trembling in fear—the shadows seem to lengthen, pointed fingers crawling towards you with nails like claws. You tremble and you whinny in answer—I'm coming! Then you are fleeing, racing, trees and branches snatching at your, familiar paths becoming unfamiliar in your worry, the friendliness of the birds and the bumblebees becoming a haunting portent of evil to come.
Then you see him, find him—your father, eyes dark and troubled, and you leap towards him, panicked and fearful, rushing your muzzle along his neck and flank and legs, checking for injury or for harm. You whinny again, unable to express yourself adequately, and glare at him fiercely, still quivering: "You frighten me!"
@Tembovu
| World's Edge Captain atk: 7 | def: 9.0 | dam: 7.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 18hh :: 10 HP: 77 | Buff: SWIFT |
|
Mbwene :: African Elephant :: Ashen
smitty |
A whinny, high, frightened, but alive, answers his bellow. Mbwene returns the cry with a loud, roaring trumpet— her still young mind swamped in the panic of her bonded’s dreams. She does not understand the reason behind the images and fear of the King, but she does feel the depth of his emotions. And they shake her to her small, calf core.
The father’s ears are perked— because, in that moment, he is more father than King. Though regency is taken seriously, far more precious and close to his heart is fatherhood. So it is tense, nearly trembling, and wide-eyed that he strains and waits for his son. Where is he coming from? His body shudders once, wanting to move but unsure which direction will bring him to Hawezi—
But then his boy is there, soft foal lips running over his rough hide as his own dark muzzle skims every reachable inch of his child. Neck, fuzzy mane, chest, forearms, wings, back, haunches, stifles— all are inspected. But his search ends on his chest, muzzle halting and breath held as he felt the quick ticking of life beneath his lips.
Slowly, with each beat, giant body moderately relaxes, “Promise me you will learn to fly,” his deep rumble is fervent, brought on by his dream. Though his command begs no question, as his great head suddenly hooks over the child’s small back and pulls him to his chest. Mbwene slowly edges in behind Hawezi, trunk seeking to touch whatever part of her favored person she could— also needing confirmation of Wezi’s presence after the crippling lost felt through her bonded.
Breathing slowed as his son’s presence stays and becomes more and more real by the moment. “I cannot lose you, my son,” his murmur is quiet and hoarse in the silent, small clearing, “I can’t.”
Tembovu The Elephant King
Please tag Tembovu.
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