She spends some time around the place where she had found her grandson, and then departs again, headed toward the line of mountains on the horizon. They rise up high and foreboding as she enters the plains, a dark blotch against the pale, empty expanse. Her indigo gaze takes in the herd of buffalo, looking for weaklings.
Not that she could take one down alone—she never could have, anyway. Just out of habit, and the amused hope that one might choose to suddenly drop dead.
The old seductress trots up a rise, ebony pelt lifting on the wind. Her breath fogs on the air as she stops and surveys the land. It is too open here for her taste; she prefers more cover, and hopefully will find it in the mountains. But she is tired, and will rest here a while.
Gone are the days where she can travel without stopping. With age has come some ugly truths.
There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...
Moath had been unconsciously following the rumbles of the mass, shuffling forward as the vibrations carried him that way. They led him through the Teekon, and without protest or anything to be abrasive of the decision, he followed. The world was a cold one today, as it had been a regular few months now. But as of everything-
he felt nothing.
The obsidian mountain moved, shuffle by shuffle as he parted through the ruffles of with who tried to buffet the beast. Nothing could hold him back from this aimless goal.
It wasn’t long before the rumbles grew to a deafening degree.
Midnight amethysts locked into the heft of the herd, and almost without effort the weaker one stood out to him. Without even considering the other bison, not their capability, he began to make his way forward.
Near invisible irises hid against the the sea of black fur, but that faint purple gleam remained fixated on the one bison he wanted down.
Towards the herd, he walked.
And in silence, he waited.
A shadow travels toward the bison, lithe and powerful. It reminds her of her grandson—of herself—and she blinks, intrigued. Once upon a time, she might have joined him in his hunt. Now, she is content to watch. She is much too old for a buffalo chase.
But could this be another Melonii? She is torn between letting him slip away and giving a chuff, but scaring the herd in the process. Megara shuffles her paws in uncomfortable fashion, emotions rippling across her face like film reel flying by. Perhaps he will notice her before a decision has to be made.
There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...
Again he was bombarded with the feeling of being watched. His muscles diminished their effort as the gigantuan heads of the bison faced him and his lack of stealth. They were a multitude Times his size, but they were slightly skittish. They all rose up and trampled away on thick barrels of muscles legs, leaving the following man back in a cloud of snow and snorts.
He hadnt shaken his pelt free, and he watched them forsake him, and something sparked in him as he just took off with them. He hadn’t felt this much energy flow through him at a snapped moment before, and it felt terrible to run. But steel muscles pumped and the Void was a black nightmare behind the brown burly moving mountains.
The weakest one was straggling behind, and it was easy to catch up to the limping meal. But as he tossed his body forward to throw himself across the hind, a hind heel, hoof just sharply missing his chest and whamming his shoulder a bit, while the heel itself knocked into Moath’s extended neck. His throat felt the impact, and most specifically his vocal chords. His shoulder was knocked, and his balance was thrown off.
It wasn’t long before he was down.
And in silence, he waited.
She sucks in a breath, a sharp hiss, as the wolf goes down, struck by the powerful hooves. With haste, Megara travels down toward him, if only to pull him to safety before more of the animals reacted in fear and anger. She is about to set her teeth in his scruff when she pauses, eyes fixed, unblinking, on his face.
It has been a long while and many steps since she's seen this countenance. But neither time nor space can erase a mother's memory of a child.
Moath?
she whispers, at a loss for more words. Before he can answer, she nudges him, trying to get him upright again. Come. The bison are fearful; they will trample us both if we stay here.
Even as lithe and quick as she is, an aged Megara is no match for the powerful, heavy beasts.
There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...
In that moment, Moath couldn't understand. There was much he couldn't make connections to, and that was what he was used to. However, as he lay in that field of scuffled white, he couldn't unstand one thing-
Why did this woman come for him? And was there no urge to kill her? He was dazed, but nothing showed any of the like in those voided eyes of his. They drifted over the face of this dark woman who had come to him, and the voice settled over him like some sort of blanket. He undstood nothing of what was happening, and that included orders. He simply lacked the capability of following orders. But as she pulled him to his fours, he felt the urges rise with him, and this one simply bade him follow the ushering of the somehow familiar woman.
So he did, despite not knowing that was what she wanted all along. It was just an instinct that revived from olden days, where it was all he could do until she had vanished from him, and he could follow no more. He didn't know what it meant. He didn't know then that she had abandoned him so long ago. But what he did know was that he was meant to follow her, limping and all. So the massive brute took away himself from the field of gigantuan beasts, and followed the smaller svelte woman.
And in silence, he waited.
They retreat, and when they are a safe distance away from the herd, she stops and turns to him, her eyes wide. Moath,
she whispers, her face soft. She looks for any and every sign of recognition she can find in his face. Do you remember me?
It has been some time since she has seen her son. Even without the innate knowledge of a mother, she would know him to be a Melonii, and love him for it. But this Melonii is more special than the others; this Melonii was once a part of her. She is blown away by his reappearance, and has so many questions.
How? Why?
There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...
Moath kept pace with her, even his single limp of a strained limp proving atleast 2 of her strides. He tried to understand where this all came from, the dirty and blood-caked brute such similar to her as he was in the water.
But it wasn’t until she directly looked at him, a note filling her voice as she called his name. It then between then and the whelping den where this all connected, and made sense. Slow, like a toddler caught in trouble but mind relapsed into innocence, he nodded slowly.
This woman was Ma Ma.
And she was not to be touched.
And in silence, he waited.
She rushes forward to embrace him, a few stumbling steps, and then stops in her tracks. Composes herself. This is not the child she once nursed; this is a man grown, a proud Melonii. It would be inappropriate and ill-fitting to show him the kind of affection one would show a pup. Instead, she smiles and gives a shaky nod.
It is so good to see you again, my son,
she says fervently, tail swishing behind her. It's been so long. . .
She thought of her meeting with Midar, suddenly, and it sends bells ringing through her mind. Are you with Midar? Do you know that there are other Melonii, here?
There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...
Little did the mother know that Moath was a starved creature who had grown up the way he had because he hadn’t been taughts how to properly harness nor vocalize his emotions. That might have been one of the steps to edge him further from the ruined shadows he had been in for so long - but he had grown up in the dark for so long, that seemingly even love had no change on the older brute. His Mother was a good woman though. It was not her fault that Moath was disabled, mentally.
Or was it?
After she had nearly hugged him, his deadpan dark gaze on the petite woman as she expressed her love for him, she had inquired of the Family. A nod sealed his meet with the Son, and he pointed a scarred muzzle to where the rest of the Melonii were residing, or rather where the graceless male was told they would be.
And in silence, he waited.
So he
does know. A thrill goes through her at the prospect of her family reunited, so far from the dark forest in which they'd originated. Not only that, but the chance to reconcile her frequent absences with her son and her grandson. How many more are here? Who else will show their face?
I will meet you there,
Megara says, nodding as she follows his gaze.
There is one more thing I must do before I go.
She touches her muzzle to his shoulder, allowing herself this
one caress, this single show of affection. It is not the boundless love of a mother and her children—but it is deeper than mere acquaintance or friendship. Bonded by blood, forever.
Want to fade this out?
yes <3 sweets
There was nowhere left to go, nowhere left to run. Panic crept up my throat as I ran into yet another dead end, and realized he had led me here. Turning around, I found him...
Something nearly feral scrapped rapidly against his lungs as though a rat had crawled in and felt the organ was a trap meant to escape from. It hurt, and each smarting scramble tightened his chest even more. All of it resides in him, his stoic face remaining after the gentle caress had come to cease. It was strange, but he had no inclination what to do with the hurt the love had inflicted on him.
So he stood there, keeping silent as she instructed him to go there, and wait for her, passively the command was hidden. But he had gathered it as any mechanical organism would, picking up the suggestion and turning the key to make that lock law. He would wait for Mother.
And they would be at Home.
Watching her vanish into the disappearing day, he waited until she was no longer visible even to his keen blank stare, before he headed where Midar told him the rest of the Melonii were.
And there, he would wait.
And in silence, he waited.