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Tembovu the Elephant King
Navy eyes stared into her two-toned eyes that widened in amazement in response to his question. Amusement flickered through his own gaze, conquering (for a moment) the melancholy that lingered there. He remained silent as she verbally worked out her reasoning for not yet asking the Moon to heal her legs, his dark brows raising as she lumped all the gods together. He had not been in Helovia for as long as Erthe had been alive, and his little experience with the gods (limited to the Rift battles, truthfully) told him how different the divine siblings were. A warm, half-chuckle rumbled from deep in his chest as she proclaimed him to be a ‘genius’. “If only I was, little Erthe,” he slipped and called her as if she were still a young filly, “Then I would be returning to the Edge with my family.” His voice dipped quietly, sadness returning.
He shook his heavy skull slightly, focusing on her answer to his question about her ‘ways’. And his dark brows rose as she began to describe the plant she used to numb her pain. But the plant she spoke of was powerful, numbing the mind as well as the body—so much so that it was one of the few things that impressed on the King’s mind from Tilney’s many teachings.
So, carefully, he asked the pearlescent filly, “How often, and how much, do you use this herb?” His head cocked, studying her as they stood on the frozen Steppe, brisk winds intermittently whipping around their mismatched bodies: one large, hulking elephant filled with fire and one small, dainty snowflake with ice for skin. Concern began to rear it head in his mind, while some semblances of anger stirred in his chest. How had Erthe known to use this herb? And did she know how to appropriately use it?
There were some old Dorobian warriors in his tribe on the plains—one in particular, his dam’s sire, had been mauled by a pack of hyenas while he was protecting a foal that had wandered outside the tribe’s boundaries. Their bone-crushing jaws had crunched all but one his limbs in varying degrees of severity. That warrior had begun eating iboga, a Plains plant with similar properties to the one Erthe was using, and eventually his mother had found him, dead while surrounded by a trove of it.
So his eyes carefully watched her as he waited for an answer.
@Erthë!
Please tag Tembovu.
