the Rift


[OPEN] I'm sorry, mother

Zèklè Posts: 166
Outcast atk: 8.0 | def: 10 | dam: 3.5
Colt :: Pegasus :: 14.1 :: Three HP: 67 | Buff: NOVICE
charks
#1
Zèklè
Well these days I'm fine
But these days I tend to lie
Well, here goes nothing.

After the initial pleasantries are exchanged, the warm welcoming and chatter and hugs, you pull Ampere aside. Your heart is pattering a rapid beat between your lungs; you stare at the ground, desperately uncertain, miserably hesitant to share your news.

"Ma, I'm... I'm movin' to the Falls."

You don't dare meet your mother's eyes - you couldn't bear to see her disappointment, her anger with you, her lack of understanding, an understanding that isn't yours to give. This moment has been weighing on you for days; anticipatory anxiety clawed a hole in your belly, and now you wish you could just curl up and hide within it, become a small, compact thing unable to be seen or touched by the world. Behind you, wind dances merrily along the surface of the Oasis, casting ripples across the pond. Maybe, you think, you could leap into the water and vanish beneath it, effectively hiding from all responsibility forever.

Or maybe you could go ask the Time God to make you a little colt again, safe from the complexity of mature emotions and competing loyalties. Yes, you know it's the coward's way out, everyone has to grow up, you can't go through life not hurting anyone, et cetera et cetera. But right now you don't really care. You don't want to hurt anyone. And, most of all, you don't want to be hurt yourself.

So you try to explain. "My... my friend, uh, the Mountain that Knows, she was made the Czarina there, an' she asked me to be Mason." The babble falls from your lips like water, and you know it isn't enough, but you keep going. "An' I said yes, 'cus, well... she needs me, Ma, she's... I can't tell you what happened, but it was bad, an' I gotta be there for her." Desperately you try to explain, your sunbeam gaze darting up to meet your Ma's before falling back down as you shuffle in the sand. It made so much sense in your head, but here, now, it feels like excuses for running away- and you're not.

You're just a small boy, trying to do the right thing.

"I'm not leavin' you guys, though... not really." Not in my heart. "It's not for forever, an; I'll still come back an' visit, an' I got my dagger, an' you guys can come see me whenever."

You rise again to meet her eyes, your own bright gaze pleading for her love. And then, because you can't help it, because it just slips out like a child's prayer, you quietly add that dearest hope, that perfect picture to which you've clung - "Or you could come with me," you breathe, a boy begging for his mother's love.

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Asking that you please not join unless you ask/are Zero's immediate family <3

Ampere The Mother of Companions Posts: 719
Dragon's Throat Sultana atk: 9 | def: 11 | dam: 4.5
Mare :: Pegasus :: 14 hh :: 6 years HP: 73 | Buff: DANCE
Kygo :: Green Cheek Conure :: None Blu
#2
HEART SICK_AND EYES FILLED UP WITH BLUE


Ampere was always more buoyant in Zèklè's company. He had an infectious sort of happiness to him, he always had, and like a balm against her aching heart he alleviated some of her grief, however brief. As he'd aged, she'd seen less and less of him, as was to be expected. She'd had to remind herself for a time not to unnecessarily crowd him, looming over like a mother hen incapable of letting go. Having younger children to keep watch over had helped there, but Ampere had always been a bit more lenient with his sisters- they had each other for support when he'd only had her, and they had always been more independent, practically demanding it in ways he hadn't. Even the youngest child was afforded more freedom though, due in part to negligence as much as purposeful allowance.

Because no matter what happened, Zèklè would always be her first child, the one that turned her love around.
She always felt like maybe he needed more of that love too, because of... because he had... she blinked as she became aware that she was staring at the titanium that grew like a parasite along his side. Knowing his feelings, she glanced away, proffering a smile as they walked and talked along the shore.

It was a peaceful moment that could have gone on for eternity, so it seemed to her. A chance to revel in her son's presence, reminiscent of prior days chasing sunlight through the storm clouds; his youth was her happiest times. That was then though, and this was now. No matter how many similarities she wanted to draw, she was stuck in the now, where her happiness had turned sour, Zèklè included.

She'd heard him. She must have, because suddenly she stopped walking.
Her eyes still had a glassy appearance, seeing but not seeing; looking beyond, where sunlight and laughter had danced. She was stuck there, in the past, just for a moment before the sensation gradually faded. It was like all the color was bleeding out of the world, and each time she blinked, each time she became more aware, the surroundings grew dimer and duller until she was back on the cold Orangemoon shore where storm clouds hung too heavy for any sunshine to break through. She was back to hurt and misery and heartache, and it was him, just him, who had been bright enough to mimic that sunlight she was always reaching for. Her head turned slowly, looking at him with an expression that couldn't quite be placed. Confusion maybe, or more aptly, disbelief. Longing perhaps, or better said, horrified. Sad even, or rather, broken.

"What?" was all she managed after heartbeats of silence, her tone low, fragile as it broke past her lips with a cracking rasp. He had kept talking, but she hadn't really heard anything past I'm movin' to the Falls. She didn't need to, everything after that was just a scramble to explain, an excuse trying to be justified. From his perch on her rump Kygo gave a low, sad note of regret.

She might have said something more, might have asked, or tried at least to understand and come to terms with this, except then he said that. It didn't matter how he said it, so subtle and pleading, it was that he said it at all- come with me. "NO!" she hissed suddenly, her head jerking more towards him, teeth exposed beneath taut lips and ears hidden among her feathers and air. The blue of her gaze that had grown grey like the winter sea now flashed with a brilliant anger. "You lied," she nearly screeched, hysteria rising. "You said you'd look out for us!" she accused, vehement in her outrage, a response to being wounded. "You can't see us from that far away," she snarled, staring for a single moment after she had finished, her flanks heaving, her nostrils flared, her features still taut with fury.

Then she turned on her heels, so abrupt the motion threw Kygo from her, and she bolted forward and took to her wings, abandoning them all.


A M P E R E

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Iskra Posts: 79
Dragon's Throat Colt
Colt :: Pegasus :: 17 :: 1 year
Castiel :: Royal Humpback Leviathan :: Tidal Wave Blu
#3




As his mother and elder brother talked, Iskra frolicked alongside them, caught in some self-arranged game that wasn't apparent to anyone looking at him. He was attempting to hop from rock to rock, or shell to shell, or anything that wasn't just sand. In cases where the stretch was rather long, he attempted to glide on his outstretched wings, treating the sand like lava.

His game halted as they did however, suddenly aware that something was wrong. It felt the way it did when a storm rolled in. The air was tight, like it wasn't just air any more, but made out of something thick and heavy and dangerous. Iskra didn't like it.

Hesitantly he looked over Ampere and Zèklè, worried eyes skipping back and forth between the two as he noticed the gradual changes in their body language. Zèklè was always happy, which Iskra loved, but even more than that, he managed to make mom happy too, which was the best ever! So what was happening now, to disturb all of that?

Carefully Iskra began to approach. He didn't want to, he wanted to go back just before, when there were smiles and easy conversation and softness, but he couldn't ignore the tension now that he was aware of it, like giggling at a funeral even if you weren't mourning the one being buried. He crept forward, body low and tucked, steps hesitant but coming all the same. He caught the tail end of Zèklè's explanation, and he heard everything Ampere threw back in Zèklè's face.

Then she was gone.

Just, gone.

The urge to stay with mom bade Iskra to run after her for a moment. He collected himself swiftly after the shock of her departure, breaking out across the sands in as fast a gallop as his little legs could carry him, baby wings shuffling uselessly at his sides as he bleated out her name hoping the wind wouldn't steal it away (but it did... or she ignored him)- but she was gone. Iskra pulled up, gradually slowing until he stopped, his gaze tracing her and the green parrot in pursuit until the sky swallowed them. Tears threatened at the edges of his eyes, while his limbs wiggled with weariness that his heaving flanks punctuated.

"She's never just left me before," he murmured, still blinking at the sky. Whenever Ampere set off without him she always made sure he was under the watchful care of someone else in the herd, or his siblings, but she had never just left without any sort of explanation, or reason, or clear indication of who he should stay with. Suddenly afraid, Iskra spun around, dashing back towards Zèklè (who may have already been very close if he followed too). Iskra ran to his elder brother, trying to dash beneath him like he did his mom, where it was usually safe, and warm, and nice.

"It's okay Z," Iskra attempted to comfort (both of them), clearly choking back tears as his nose sniffed excessively.



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Zèklè Posts: 166
Outcast atk: 8.0 | def: 10 | dam: 3.5
Colt :: Pegasus :: 14.1 :: Three HP: 67 | Buff: NOVICE
charks
#4
Zèklè
Well these days I'm fine
But these days I tend to lie
Everything fades into a pinpoint, a moment of absolute between you and your Ma. Even Iskra is other; for a minute all there is is you and her, and you are a baby and she is your flame, your source of sustenance and safety and warmth. You want to disappear beneath her and close your eyes, deny the cruelty of the world - but you can't, Zèklè, and you know it. The days of coltish denial are over- you are a stallion now, a patriarch of sorts, and it is time for you to be an adult, even when your mother cannot.

You hold your tongue as she turns around, the 'What?' a harsh whisper on your mother's lips. Dark ears find their way into the mess of your mane, but you keep your silence, waiting, hoping, your body coiled and retracted and small. More explanations rise to your lips, and you want to tell her more about Iso, about Mesec, to confess the pile of secrets you now carry so heavy in your chest, to give them to your Ma to carry. But you do not.

You do not run away, either. You consider it, as her face flashes from disbelief to dire fury and your stomach fills with mercury fear. Her rejection of your plea - come with me - is a slap in the face, but though your eyes close in response to the pain, you do not flinch. What had you expected? Your Ma is the desert, hot and wild, the wind that whips sand into devils and and the waves that break like thunder across the shore. She is the desert, but you are the sea, gentle and inviting, unpredictable and full of life. She is drying out in the face of too much grief, and you- you are only barely getting started. You want to run from her sorrow, and in a way perhaps you are, but you have also promised to stay, to care, to be there despite the distance. So you do not run.

And then, when she continues, her voice venom and her eyes ablaze, you do not look away. In the back of your mind you wish Iskra was not here, that he did not have to see this side of Ampere. She is ugly like this, a flawed, broken simulacrum of the Ma who raised you, but she is still Ma, still yours, and you will not lose her again. You hold her in your sunbeam gaze, unwilling to let her escape it, terrified that if she does, you will never get her back. The fear in your belly is hot now, urgent- you know something awful is about to happen, but you cannot bring yourself to move or speak. Your tailfeathers are a tight plate against your flanks, and your wing wraps around you like a blanket. All you have is eye contact, and you hold onto that with everything you have, hoping, praying, that she will see you through her pain, and it will be enough.

In the moment of silence that follows, you feel a flicker of hope. She's still pissed, obviously, but you've seen her pissed before. Perhaps now that her rage is spent, she can be calm. Perhaps now is the time to try again, to catch her before the bridges between you can be permanently burned. Carefully you step forward, extending your nose to her. "Ma," you breathe-

-and just like that, she's gone.

Iskra takes off after her, but you're standing in the dust, bewildered and alone with your shattered heart. Why? Why? Your head spins, and you realize you aren't breathing, because sobs are choking your windpipe and you can't, can't, can't inhale, can't make your body work well enough to get oxygen in, can't do anything because she's gone, again, and you cannot follow because you're stupid and broken and weak, because there's metal where your wing should be, because you were born wrong. This is what you get for thinking you're worth something, for trying to do right when you don't know anything, you're just a stupid little cripple with delusions of grandeur. You knew this would happen.

Your knees wobble, and for a second it looks like you might fall right there where you stand- but then you see Iskra, his small voice bleating, his baby wings rustling uselessly, and you know that you can't. Because as much as you might hate yourself in this moment, your brother needs you, and you cannot let him down. "Iskra," you call weakly at his retreating tail, your body struggling to follow him through the sand. By some miracle your legs still work, and before you know it you're running. You reach him as he turns around, his tiny face wet with snot and tears, his blue eyes bloodshot, grief contorting him at such a young age into something he never deserved to be.

Hate runs through you, fury with your dam- but you do not let it onto your face, because as fucked up as you and Ampere may be, Iskra does not deserve your pain. "Iskra," you murmur, reaching down to nuzzle the small body that has retreated to safety between your legs, his voice muffled by sobs and skin. "It will," you agree firmly, though you seriously doubt the validity of the claim. Maybe it will be okay for him, but will it be okay for you? Can it ever be okay? You've argued with Ampere before, but never fought, never anything like this, and part of you fears that an insurmountable distance has grown between you now.

But Iskra doesn't need your fear. You continue to nuzzle him, your wing coming around to hold you both, your body still tense with unspent emotion. "I'll stay with you, 'k? We'll wait together." You keep your voice quiet, keep the tremors (mostly) out of it. You'll be strong for him.

"Do you wanna hear a story, Sparky? A story about Ma?"


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GDI BLU. have a novel

Iskra Posts: 79
Dragon's Throat Colt
Colt :: Pegasus :: 17 :: 1 year
Castiel :: Royal Humpback Leviathan :: Tidal Wave Blu
#5




It's perhaps the first time his elder brother has used his actual name. It was something Iskra noticed immediately for how foreign it sounded, how serious it was, a stark contrast against their normal moments of shared play and joy. It made Iskra feel sick, because he didn't want big brother to be anything but those moments. He had enough of everything else with mom, so gods, he couldn't lose his brother too.

This, more than the abandonment, shook Iskra with grief and fear. He trembled underneath the shelter of Zero, pressing every ounce of his body that he could manage against some part of Zero, so that he could feel that solid presence of reassurance. Gently he shut his eyes, counting his heartbeats in his mind, a process he used to calm himself and renew his ability to cope with the reality shattering around him.

It isn't Zero's affirmation or encouragement that eventually soothes Iskra, it's his return to normalcy, his willingness to pretend everything is alright, that finally rouses the young colt from the abyss he's slipping into. He's never cried before this, and eagerly his lashes blink away the hot sting of the sticky residue, his limb quick to help him rub the trails off his cheeks and the mucus from his nares.

"Yea," is all he manages to say, but there's a spark of youthful vigor there, a crumb of excitement and bewildered interest. After all, he's heard a lot of stories about dad, from the herd, and from mom if she was up to it, but he rarely heard anything about her.

Was she always like this? It had been thus as far back as he could remember, but part of him didn't think so. Part of him knew this mom he had was the ghost that remained behind after his dad left, but he simply couldn't imagine her as anything else - he had little reason to.



Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

Zèklè Posts: 166
Outcast atk: 8.0 | def: 10 | dam: 3.5
Colt :: Pegasus :: 14.1 :: Three HP: 67 | Buff: NOVICE
charks
#6
Zèklè
Well these days I'm fine
But these days I tend to lie
Iskra's sobbing settles and slows, and with it the thundering of your heart. Instead of panic you are left with a deep weariness, exhaustion too great for you to have fathomed mere seasons ago, but now somewhat familiar, expected- your life has been building to this moment, in a way, where your carefully constructed sandcastles of hope finally erode their way into the sea. Oh, sure, you'll build them back up again - that's what you do, after all. You stay positive, you push forward, you survive. But not right now. Right now you're tired, and you just want to lie down, to collapse, to sleep it off and wake up two years ago, when Ma was happy and you were a child.

You can't - not just because de'nile is only a river in Egypt, but because Sparky is here, his big blue eyes staring up at you earnestly, his hope still close to the surface and easy to ignite. So instead of falling down to sleep you settle into your heavy hooves, your lips nibbling lightly at the joints of his wing as you think, trying to bring up an appropriate story, one that will restore a little faith for both of you.

"When I was real small," you begin, your voice thoughtful as you "Not a lot bigger'n you, there was a hole in the world called the Rift. An' from the hole came people - new people, some of 'em nice an' some of 'em not. An' the people brought their gods.

"Ma was the Gladiator when it happened - she used to be, y'know, an' Sultana before that - so it was her job to lead our warriors into the fights. Because the new gods were evil, an' with their world lost they wanted to devour ours. They were gonna tear it apart an' leave it in ruins, an, well, Ma wouldn't have that. She said, if anyone's gonna destroy the world, it's gonna be me!"
You chuckle slightly at your own joke.

"The first Evil God was a great and hungry bear, an' when it died it fell in a river, an' made the Blood Falls. The second Evil God was a horrible Wolf with dripping, bloody teeth, an' when it died its fur grew tall and wild, making the Green Labyrinth. The third Evil God was a sly an' crooked Crocodile, an' its shiny scales made the Halcyon Flats. An' the last Evil God was a cruel and snarling tiger, an' when it died its teeth an' claws made the Riptide Isles, but its coat was made into a cloak for Ma, because she fought so bravely against it. The very same cloak she gave to Tae."

Much of this story is, strictly speaking, untrue. You prefer embellished, though, and besides, isn't it more interesting to think of the world as being built on the bodies of slain gods?

...Okay, maybe a little morbid. But still. Interesting!

"Because I was so small, Ma didn't want me to fight. But when the Tiger God came I followed her, because I wanted to help. An' when the time came to fight it I did something very stupid - I climbed up some stairs an' tried to jump down onto it from above. That was the first time I broke my wing," you add, waving that poor, abused appendage for emphasis.

"Well, I was lucky. I might've died, but Ma saw me, an' you know what she did? She flew up, right into the tiger, an' saved me while at the same time delivering the killing blow. I thought I was a goner for sure, but when I woke up Ma was there, an' Da too, an' the tiger was dead but I was safe.

"Once she decided I was safe, Ma was furious. She yelled an' yelled an yelled, an' I thought she'd never forgive me. But then I realized she was just scared, 'cus Ma's are always scared about their kids. They want us to be big and strong, y'know, but not to get hurt doing it, and this was the most hurt I'd ever been. An' Ma was always extra scared about me, 'cus I only got the one wing...

"When she was done being mad Ma was proud of me, an' started training me to be stronger an' smarter. So, see, sometimes Ma gets mad, but it's just 'cus she loves us, an' 'cus she's the best warrior in the world, but sometimes warriors can only really show their love in ways that don't make a lot of sense. But she loves us, Sparky. She really does."


Silence falls, and you stare into the distance, your mind still churning as you struggle to put together the pieces of reassurance you just tried to give yourself. You want Sparky to believe it, but you're not sure you can fool yourself. When Ma got mad before, you could always see the love behind it. But this time?

This time, you just aren't sure anymore.


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Iskra Posts: 79
Dragon's Throat Colt
Colt :: Pegasus :: 17 :: 1 year
Castiel :: Royal Humpback Leviathan :: Tidal Wave Blu
#7




Zero, ever a crafter, weaves the words of the story with such an expert hand he must have apprenticed in the Basin. Iskra is drawn into the stitches he makes, tied among the threads of syllables and verbiage that bundles around him like a warm scarf on a cold winter night. Steadily the young colt is soothed, and that would have been enough for this moment. However Zero doesn't just settle for okay; no artist, no big brother, ever does. So as the fable continues, Iskra's heart continues too, moving beyond calm and into enchanted. His mind races with the imagination of it, and like a dawn breaking across a fresh day, so his smile peeks into existence and widens until it consumes every last trace of sadness.

Iskra slips out from beneath the shelter of his brother, turning to face him, bright, eager eyes tracing the motions of his sibling as if he could witness the very scenes Zekle spoke of. "Whoa!" Iskra exclaimed as he learned of the cloak's origins, a newfound respect gained. That's why they're so mad it's gone, he realized. "Does it make you as strong as the tiger god?" he whispered in wonderment, then soft, more worried, "It doesn't make you evil does it!?" because that would be awful.

Iskra hadn't been to all of Helovia yet, and had only visited the Isles with mom to see that strange water creature- Kis was it? He had no idea then that he was standing on the teeth and claws of a mighty tiger god! He'd have to go back and visit it soon, see if he could notice the ground snarling at him.

His focus returned to Zekle as his brother now inserted himself into the tale. The astounding bravery of his older brother set Iskra's eyes wide as saucers, and his mouth, steadily drawn agape with bewilderment, gasped loudly as Zekle explained his injury. "Wow Z, you're awesome!" Iskra blurted out, his gaze tracing the sweeping motions of Zekle's previously broken wing. "Did it...did it hurt?" he wondered, because if it did, how did Zekle ever find that bravery? How did he deal with the pain and the risk of it?

Each time Iskra thought the story just couldn't continue, that the top as the top, Zero kept building it higher. Not once did Iskra ever doubt his big bro, because why would he? Zero was there, he knew, and he was clearly amazing so the story just made sense. Or, most of it did. The adventure all pieced together for the boy except for his mom's involvement, and as the story started to dwindle and conclude, focused on her, Iskra's doubts grew larger. The wonderment started to dissolve, replaced with confusion, seemingly echoed by the quiet and thoughtful way Zekle receded as his final phrase fell with a hollow strength. "She loves us Sparky. She really does."

Does she?

Iskra believed she loved once, but it was hard to see it now. Zekle still carried some remnants of it, like little fossils of love were buried in the man he had become, affirming for Iskra that in a time before him, love had been present. Now though... now he wondered.

"Did she really do all that?" Iskra finally asked after a moment. His voice was slow, the desire to believe cautious in them, a wild animal sniffing at offered food with a survival based hesitancy, but a gnawing hunger. Iskra wanted to believe in her, all of her, but he was still so hungry all the time. "Was she really a warrior that fought gods an, an saved you an stuff?" The idea of the gods becoming islands, of Tae holding the skin of one, of Zekle throwing himself into the fray and breaking his wing, well it all seemed more plausible than that. "Doesn't seem like her."

Iskra had been searching in Zekle's face for answers, seeking truth to hope in. All Zekle would have to do is say, "Yeah kid," and Iskra would be sold. Hesitant still, but he'd buy it, because if he trusted anyone, it was Zekle.

Still, with a defeated sort of motion, Iskra turned his head away and stared into the distant spot where she had left, because bought or not, things were still different. So he asked the desert softly, "where did that mom go?"



Tag me only if starting a new thread.
Magic or force permitted any time, aside from death.

Zèklè Posts: 166
Outcast atk: 8.0 | def: 10 | dam: 3.5
Colt :: Pegasus :: 14.1 :: Three HP: 67 | Buff: NOVICE
charks
#8
Zèklè
Well these days I'm fine
But these days I tend to lie
"She was," you affirm, your voice earnest but your gaze far away. She was all that and even more... and part of you desperately wants to believe she still is.

Sparky has settled, his sobbing ceased and his great gaze earnest as he waits for the words to fall from your lips, the stories you got to live and he only gets to hear. Guilt creeps over you then, and doubt- are you making the right choice, leaving him with her? Ma, your Ma, the Ma you adore, she's infallible, indomitable, a steadfast presence in a turbulent world. She's the warrior, the sultana, the best friend and mentor you remember from exuberant childhood years, and in your memory that's what she always will be - but Iskra doesn't know that Ma, and fear squeezes at your heart as you wonder if you stole all her best years. The Ma you see now, the one who flees instead of fights... you still recognize your Ma in her, but there's a cloud, a film, a darkness that covers her, one you can't seem to pierce.

Is it your fault, you wonder - not for the first time. You and Ma- you were close, thick as thieves, in a way you know she wasn't with the twins, isn't with Iskra. Did Ma have a fixed capacity of love, which you drank up in your youth, squandering it and leaving naught for your siblings? Did it take too much to love a crippled boy, a one-winged child, leaving her with little for her following offspring, until there was nothing, just the shell of what she was? You look at your brother, chewing your lip, trying to keep the pain from your eyes. Did you steal her from him before he was even born, only to abandon him now, in his hour of need?

"I don't know where she is," you whisper, reaching down to bury your nose against his poll. "But we'll find her one day, Sparky. You an' me. She's in there somewhere." I hope.

At last you trust your face to be composed and draw back, rising to your full (insignificant) height, a rueful half-smile spreading across your inky lips. Fondness mixes with remorse as you look upon your brother, wishing you could steal him away from the troubles of the world, knowing first hand that it's just not possible to do. He's gotta grow up the same way you did, and all you can do is help him.

But you do have a couple tools to add to his arsenal. After all, what else are big brothers for?

"I have something for you," you tell him, then turn and holler over your shoulder, "Hey, Squishy, come here!" Dutiful as ever, the golem lumbers through the sand, its malformed body glittering in the faint evening night. You return your attention to Sparky, expression serious again. "Squishy was made in the Throat, out of Throat rocks," you inform him solemnly, "And he really likes living in the Throat more than anywhere else. Will you look after him for me, Sparky? Just until I come home?" It's a poor replacement, a weak apology, but it's all you have to offer- a guardian for him, and the promise that one day, soon, you will return.


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Iskra Posts: 79
Dragon's Throat Colt
Colt :: Pegasus :: 17 :: 1 year
Castiel :: Royal Humpback Leviathan :: Tidal Wave Blu
#9




There's a new sort of sadness that creeps into his brother's voice as Zero answers him. There's hope though too, and a kind of promise - that days will get better, and her too. It lifts him up somewhat, and as the snot and the tears dry, Zero pulls away and Iskra look into his eyes with a weak smile, returning the firmer one on his lips. This moment will be one Iskra carries with him forever. He doesn't know it now, but it's one of those memories that'll fit in his pocket, clear as day no matter how often he visits it. It's the first feeling of doubt overcome with possibility, and not just chased away with a game or forced laughter. His brother gives him that, and it warms him.

His brother gives him something else too...

Zero's demeanor seems to change, and Iskra's 'brow knits with confusion as his brother says he has something. "Wh-" he's about to ask, but Z is yelling over his shoulder, and Iskra's lips slap shut as he leans over to take a look. Squishy, he ponders, faintly remembering the name, maybe hearing his older brother mentioning it before. His focus is back on the excited gaze of Zekle though as he starts sharing the exact thing Iskra is wondering. Feather-adorned earns perk up, curious.

He instantly knows it's something precious. His brother has always had an affinity for crafting, so the fact he's willing to gift one of his creations to him, well it's mind-blowing! No one's ever trusted him with anything before, much less something like this, that belongs to his favorite person in the whole world. "YEAH!" he agrees instantly, his bottlebrush tail erect above his rump with the energy coursing through him. The golem has been lumbering ever closer, and it finally catches Iskra's eye as a gem gleans. Iskra's surprise and wonder doubles, a gasp eeking past his lips. Squishy! he realizes, his brother's faithful golem of course! Wow, he knew it was special, but this!? He almost cannot bear it, and his excitement is in-containable as he bounces and shouts on the spot, "I'LL TAKE REAL GOOD CARE OF 'IM I PROMISE!"

He bounds over to the golem, inspecting it thoroughly in a way he never had before (though it had certainly always intrigued him). "Woooow," he exhales. "Do you mean it Z? He turns his head around to look back at his brother,



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