[ <3 ]

Another night was coming to an end, the eastern sky growing light as the disc of the sun slowly climbed towards the horizon. Standing upon a ledge, dark rock cold under his frosted hooves, Mauja watched as day came to claim the world. Behind him, in the west, stars and inky black ruled, but somewhere above him it had faded to cold blue, before giving away to pastel peach and yellow. It would be a while yet, and for a moment guilty thoughts tugged at his mind. He should go do this, or that, not just stand there and let the minutes tick by like sand in an hourglass. There were always things to do, words of comfort to offer, passion to be inspired, borders to be checked, or even a trip to the Threshold — so much to do, but nothing appealed to him, and after a moment he sighed, white breath rising towards the lightening sky. Even rulers could take time off, couldn't they? And just, breathe? But truth to be told, since his return, he'd filled the space in his mind with movement, duty, anything to keep the hollow filled, the confusion at bay. He'd drowned himself in order to keep his thoughts away, and now that he found that he wanted to stand still and just exist.. it was hard. Old habits die hard they said, but bitterly he thought this was a new habit, so why couldn't it just die and leave him the way he'd been?

Irma sat upon his shoulder, talons resting lightly against his scarred flesh, keeping her balance in sleep. If he shifted, he knew she'd shift too, and grip him with those sharp claws. Smiling slightly he kept still, his gaze turning slightly to the side as the bright sun came up and bit his eyes. It promised to be a beautiful day, and Mauja drew in the early morning air deep into his lungs, trapping it there, imagining that it was life, liquid and glowing gold, tangible, something to slither with the ice drakes in his veins...

The high-pitched cry of Aviya broke his concentration, and startled by its intensity he spun around. Irma gave a startled cry and dug into his shoulder, old scars splitting and pearls of red blood falling out across his white hairs. He could see her dark shape sprint across the grass, tracked by the still-cold sunlight, but it was not at her he looked — it was at another dark shape, just as leggy, just as angular, narrow.. and even blacker than the Doctor's daughter. For the name, shouted so joyously from her dark throat, was one he'd not heard for so long, least of all falling from another's lips — someone he knew to have been lost after he disappeared, someone he'd last seen standing small and cold and lonely upon the Steppe, the harsh wind blowing across his short, shaggy fur and making the lynx pelt around his shoulders stand up like a sail. Tamlin could've been anywhere. To go looking for him just hadn't been an option, and the ache over losing his son had been just another burden he drowned by always moving.

"Tamlin..." he whispered, watching the two yearlings embrace, prance upon the slope of the hill he'd crested. Irma, wide awake and grumpy at his rather rude way to wake her, stared at them with an owl's scowl, and it took her a moment to recognize the spotted colt. After all, she'd just been a hatchling last they'd seen, and he just a foal. Huffing, she abandoned his shoulder for a rock and told him to go have fun, but she was going back to sleep. But, he felt like an intruder, like.. like someone who would shatter their joy if he came down, and yet his heart ached to go down and greet his son again. Exhaling, he said, just a few more minutes, just a few more minutes for them, just a few more minutes of watching, of drinking in every detail of Tamlin's inky body — just a few more minutes until he could touch him again.

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