.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
the fine line between love and hate
The Elephant remained silent as Ada’s quiet purr trailed into silence when speaking of Mawindo—though a flinch rippled through his buckskin hide at the mention of “a lot of healing”. His muzzle withdrew its tracing of the scar on her flank as her soft words shifted from playful to sincere, just as his had changed moments before.
Navy eyes leave her flank, looking at the golden eyes that were more serious than he’d seen them since… since she’d screamed and spat the truth at him to make him stay his horn from driving through her gilded, spotted breast. But now they lacked the fury and venom. Now they were (almost) soft, even as he lost her gaze to the cool water that lapped at their plains-borne bodies.
“I wouldn’t have been too late.” He withdrew further, sending waves of clear liquid lapping to the willow-shrouded shores as he studied her closely. Their honesty and truth, before, had been out of necessity, stemming out of a shared cause of destroying the council. But now… there was no need for it, no clandestine meetings or enemy to overthrow.
Lines crease his eyes as she spoke candid—if painful— truths. “‘Too late’? What do you mean, kipaka?” His rumble was quiet, hushed even; as if speaking too loudly would crumble the fortifications his mind had against the whispers of ghosts they spoke about.
He watched closely, wanting to unearth the many layers of the words (the truths) they were sharing. Before it had been simple, informational facts to bring a nation to its knees. But here, in this Grove, naked emotion (no longer hidden by the fear of death) wove complex fabrics of their past that had gone unshared and unseen in the face of war.
But, now, as she spoke of an innocent child, this truth was resurfacing with a vengeance.
kipaka=kitten
Navy eyes leave her flank, looking at the golden eyes that were more serious than he’d seen them since… since she’d screamed and spat the truth at him to make him stay his horn from driving through her gilded, spotted breast. But now they lacked the fury and venom. Now they were (almost) soft, even as he lost her gaze to the cool water that lapped at their plains-borne bodies.
“I wouldn’t have been too late.” He withdrew further, sending waves of clear liquid lapping to the willow-shrouded shores as he studied her closely. Their honesty and truth, before, had been out of necessity, stemming out of a shared cause of destroying the council. But now… there was no need for it, no clandestine meetings or enemy to overthrow.
Lines crease his eyes as she spoke candid—if painful— truths. “‘Too late’? What do you mean, kipaka?” His rumble was quiet, hushed even; as if speaking too loudly would crumble the fortifications his mind had against the whispers of ghosts they spoke about.
He watched closely, wanting to unearth the many layers of the words (the truths) they were sharing. Before it had been simple, informational facts to bring a nation to its knees. But here, in this Grove, naked emotion (no longer hidden by the fear of death) wove complex fabrics of their past that had gone unshared and unseen in the face of war.
But, now, as she spoke of an innocent child, this truth was resurfacing with a vengeance.
kipaka=kitten
@Adaeze
Please tag Tembovu.
