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10-02-2016, 06:41 PM
Tembovu & Mbwene
He had been notably silent their small group’s walk to the Basin. Orangemoon had fallen, giving a crispness to the Edge’s air. But, as they travelled further north, the crispness became more of a cold nip, which only further tightened the King’s massive shoulders and creased his black brows.
He had waited out the long, hot days for this cooler weather. Rexanna had promised him an answer here, in this Festival. And so there was much more to this trip than a diplomatic display between the Edge and the Basin. At least, to the Elephant King there was.
In a display of solidarity, he stood alongside his new Queen. Though, in all truths, she acted more the seasoned monarch than the distracted King. She whickered greetings to those she knew, where his own attention remained inattentive to those around him, navy gaze skimming over others and seeking a familiar golden hue. His gaze stopped only once on the woman whose gray skin was hairless and smooth, curiosity having but a moment’s hold on his single-tracked mind.
His black-rimmed ear tilted sideways as Alysanne answered the story teller’s question. His gaze, not finding his siren just yet, swiveled to the Songbird. Indeed, the Elephant knew little of the Basin’s patron God. His gaze was solemn as he dipped his great skull in agreement with his lovely Queen’s request. He should know more of the gods, and if he was not yet finding the subject of his thoughts, then he should spend his time learning from the Basin. “I am Tembovu,” his introduction was generalized, to no one in particular, but rang deeply as his low roll usually did.
So, still standing tautly, he shifted and looked back and Mbwene, who had immediately been taken by the strange appearance of Syrena’s skin. Look soft. The elephant shuffled over, tooting pertly in greeting and raising her trunk expectantly—her way of asking if it would be alright to touch the woman’s uniquely smooth skin.
The Elephant sighed softly; his matriarch would forever be her own entity, as much as she shared a soul with him.
He had waited out the long, hot days for this cooler weather. Rexanna had promised him an answer here, in this Festival. And so there was much more to this trip than a diplomatic display between the Edge and the Basin. At least, to the Elephant King there was.
In a display of solidarity, he stood alongside his new Queen. Though, in all truths, she acted more the seasoned monarch than the distracted King. She whickered greetings to those she knew, where his own attention remained inattentive to those around him, navy gaze skimming over others and seeking a familiar golden hue. His gaze stopped only once on the woman whose gray skin was hairless and smooth, curiosity having but a moment’s hold on his single-tracked mind.
His black-rimmed ear tilted sideways as Alysanne answered the story teller’s question. His gaze, not finding his siren just yet, swiveled to the Songbird. Indeed, the Elephant knew little of the Basin’s patron God. His gaze was solemn as he dipped his great skull in agreement with his lovely Queen’s request. He should know more of the gods, and if he was not yet finding the subject of his thoughts, then he should spend his time learning from the Basin. “I am Tembovu,” his introduction was generalized, to no one in particular, but rang deeply as his low roll usually did.
So, still standing tautly, he shifted and looked back and Mbwene, who had immediately been taken by the strange appearance of Syrena’s skin. Look soft. The elephant shuffled over, tooting pertly in greeting and raising her trunk expectantly—her way of asking if it would be alright to touch the woman’s uniquely smooth skin.
The Elephant sighed softly; his matriarch would forever be her own entity, as much as she shared a soul with him.
Stands next to @Alysanne , while Mbwene approaches & toots at @Syrena
Please tag Tembovu.
