Stavanger Bay Five lines written on a postcard

he's still in awe of his children in a way he can't find words for, not even in the quiet of his own thoughts. he's never loved anything so much — but this love is different from any he's ever experienced. it's a fierce, desperate, fearful sort of love; a deep-rooted knowledge that he would do anything to protect them — and that he will likely need to at some point, cruel as the world can be. the thought inspires no small amount of paranoia. so when he's not busy hunting to feed elixir, he spends much of his time watching over their children (and her, of course).
today is no different, though it seems his children are becoming more aware of his presence in their lives. his ears perk slightly as he watches pheiros stir, heart jumping a little when the child's eyes land on him. he swallows, a little stunned by the depth of the feeling that crashes over him as his son starts to pull himself to his feet, moving toward him. for a moment all he can do is stare, wide-eyed and overjoyed that his child is paying him any attention at all — but then pheiros falls, and a soft snort slips from him involuntarily. he closes the last of the distance between them as his son cries out, whining softly and licking his head and ears a few times. after a moment, he starts to nose through his fur, checking him over from muzzle to tail-tip before nudging him gently, urging him back to his feet. you can never give up, he thinks, gently licking his ears again, the world won't let you.