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10-29-2012, 09:47 PM
Sometimes their lord came. Sometimes he did not. All things that were meant to happen surely would. He didn’t offer summoning or prayer, for this was Cera’s time to find peace and worship on his own accord. Midas often came to the vein in humble offering of gratitude, and sometimes just to feel the comfort of his heavily father. The ground beneath their hooves was holy and magical, he tread softly with the growing youth in tow. They had just approached the shrine when a small voice, hesitant and excited filled his ears with a question, "Will he like me if he comes?" A smile tugged at his coal black lips, softened gaze turned to Cera. Jaws gave part for an answer, but none would come. In that instant, the familiar sound of earth rumble and shift summoned the attention of both. Feathers relaxed against his side and cranium turned back to the shrine. Hindquarters gave a step or two in retraction so that Cera was ahead, and him slightly behind. Soil fell from the darkened hide as he appeared before them; the painted father lowered his head instinctively in a half bow. My lord,” words came revered and low. "If you are anything like your father, I suppose we will get along just fine." Such kind response caused Midas to flush inwardly and angle head even lower. His lord was far too generous for such a wayward man such as him. The god of earth acknowledged him, and only then did Midas lift skull to a leveled position. Immediately feeling nerves drain away as he did and attention returned to his Son. |
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