.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
Silence stretched. Long and heavy. And anything but silent.
For all the lack of words, a multitude of emotions roiled in the King. Regret was loudest, making itself known as angry roars of lions in his skull. Guilt was second, writhing like venomous vipers beneath the regret’s din. And lastly there was sorrow, which whispered as a soft and consistent breeze around the snakes and lions.
And these silent sounds were punctuated by the cracking, splitting, and falling of Elsa’s ice wall. And then more deafening silence. The King, despite the agony his manhood pulsed through his veins, tried to limp towards her—to physically close the silence that she let stretch. Such an effective and painful rebuke for what he had done here. His awkward steps stopped only when his hooves hit the remnants of her melting ice wall, unable to jump over it to reach her. Instead, his great skull and neck reached out to her, navy stare wide and pained.
When she finally spoke, his perked ears heard her easily over the roar of the thicket’s flames. The black rimmed pinnae twitched with each of her rough, ragged syllables. Thick lips pressed together, lines creasing his anguished face as her own lips quivered amid her broken words.
Never—never—had the Elephant King thought he was capable of this.
He had destroyed the Pillar, demolished the council’s tyranny and lies. (And thus, he should have inferred that, with all of those lies, he was capable of dastardly things. But he had never thought he could so thoroughly destroy a woman he cared so deeply for).
“Elsa—“ He began, but then broke off. His deep voice was rough partially from smoke, but mostly from emotion. What was there to say? He had already apologized. He had left her alone; avoided her; taken care to not impose his presence on her until duty dictated he protect his herd from this Thicket-Monster.
“No, you are not ‘good enough’; you are too good. You are honest and open with me, where I kept things from you. I hope—“ his voice faltered once again, navy eyes probing her bright blue depths, “—I hope that you will find happiness with one who deserves you. And though I have apologized, I cannot ask for your forgiveness, for I do not deserve it.”
A long and low breath pushed out of his nostrils as he looked at her. Her wing drooped, broken or sprained from his own trunk. And, though he wanted nothing more than to hobble towards her and hold her, he refrained because he knew that not only was he unwelcome, but also that it would not be comforting to the Icebound.
So, instead, with ears tilted back, he watched her with anguished, worried eyes.
For all the lack of words, a multitude of emotions roiled in the King. Regret was loudest, making itself known as angry roars of lions in his skull. Guilt was second, writhing like venomous vipers beneath the regret’s din. And lastly there was sorrow, which whispered as a soft and consistent breeze around the snakes and lions.
And these silent sounds were punctuated by the cracking, splitting, and falling of Elsa’s ice wall. And then more deafening silence. The King, despite the agony his manhood pulsed through his veins, tried to limp towards her—to physically close the silence that she let stretch. Such an effective and painful rebuke for what he had done here. His awkward steps stopped only when his hooves hit the remnants of her melting ice wall, unable to jump over it to reach her. Instead, his great skull and neck reached out to her, navy stare wide and pained.
When she finally spoke, his perked ears heard her easily over the roar of the thicket’s flames. The black rimmed pinnae twitched with each of her rough, ragged syllables. Thick lips pressed together, lines creasing his anguished face as her own lips quivered amid her broken words.
Never—never—had the Elephant King thought he was capable of this.
He had destroyed the Pillar, demolished the council’s tyranny and lies. (And thus, he should have inferred that, with all of those lies, he was capable of dastardly things. But he had never thought he could so thoroughly destroy a woman he cared so deeply for).
“Elsa—“ He began, but then broke off. His deep voice was rough partially from smoke, but mostly from emotion. What was there to say? He had already apologized. He had left her alone; avoided her; taken care to not impose his presence on her until duty dictated he protect his herd from this Thicket-Monster.
“No, you are not ‘good enough’; you are too good. You are honest and open with me, where I kept things from you. I hope—“ his voice faltered once again, navy eyes probing her bright blue depths, “—I hope that you will find happiness with one who deserves you. And though I have apologized, I cannot ask for your forgiveness, for I do not deserve it.”
A long and low breath pushed out of his nostrils as he looked at her. Her wing drooped, broken or sprained from his own trunk. And, though he wanted nothing more than to hobble towards her and hold her, he refrained because he knew that not only was he unwelcome, but also that it would not be comforting to the Icebound.
So, instead, with ears tilted back, he watched her with anguished, worried eyes.
Fire & Ice
@Elsa
I didn't want to keep this thread waiting any longer
Please tag Tembovu.
