December 16, 2018, 11:01 AM
omg my child <3
There had been plenty to ponder in the weeks following Illecebra's death - he had felt a deep loneliness grow like a shoot in the depths of his stomach, climbing like a vine up his chest and then to his throat, and then to his mind; it was almost funny, how you could be surrounded by wolves and still feel alone, solitary among friends and family. He'd thought plenty, oh yes - life was so terribly fragile, soft paper tearing at the smallest drop of water, falling apart and dissolving into the earth. It was so easily unbalanced, upset, an unpredictability... often it felt as though you were walking on eggshells, or standing on a thin sheet of ice, waiting for it to crack...
but sometimes it didn't.
The call had broken his thoughts like a stone to glass, and his ears had pricked sharply on his crown - the voice, it was a sound so familiar, one he could never lose to the wind or the fading of memory; but he hesitated, if only to ensure that his assumption was correct and his heart would not soar only to drop again. But no, he was sure... So he picked himself up, black-tipped paws trotting briskly from where he had rested, speeding to a jog and then a sprint, feeling a continuous thud like the rumble of war drums in his chest until he emerged from the undergrowth to see a man at the borders. A young man, draped in silver and grey, worn but immediately identifiable - his son.
His son had come home.
"Cyron," He whispers, feeling the warmth of the word on his tongue, and the tears sting his eyes; he moved closer, closer, to embrace the boy who had disappeared with barely a trace... Mawk longed to touch his nose to the other Saefyn's shoulder, an act purely of tender, familial love, but he knew of the reluctance his son had maintained after his return from blackfeather - so, should he not accept the welcome, he would stop. He was willing to wait for whatever Cyron needed, whatever he wanted... he was home, he was alive, safe, and that was all that mattered to the wolfdog.
but sometimes it didn't.
The call had broken his thoughts like a stone to glass, and his ears had pricked sharply on his crown - the voice, it was a sound so familiar, one he could never lose to the wind or the fading of memory; but he hesitated, if only to ensure that his assumption was correct and his heart would not soar only to drop again. But no, he was sure... So he picked himself up, black-tipped paws trotting briskly from where he had rested, speeding to a jog and then a sprint, feeling a continuous thud like the rumble of war drums in his chest until he emerged from the undergrowth to see a man at the borders. A young man, draped in silver and grey, worn but immediately identifiable - his son.
His son had come home.
"Cyron," He whispers, feeling the warmth of the word on his tongue, and the tears sting his eyes; he moved closer, closer, to embrace the boy who had disappeared with barely a trace... Mawk longed to touch his nose to the other Saefyn's shoulder, an act purely of tender, familial love, but he knew of the reluctance his son had maintained after his return from blackfeather - so, should he not accept the welcome, he would stop. He was willing to wait for whatever Cyron needed, whatever he wanted... he was home, he was alive, safe, and that was all that mattered to the wolfdog.
« Next Oldest | Next Newest »
Messages In This Thread
lift with your knees atlas - by Cyron - December 16, 2018, 10:34 AM
RE: lift with your knees atlas - by Mawk - December 16, 2018, 11:01 AM
RE: lift with your knees atlas - by Cyron - December 16, 2018, 02:09 PM
RE: lift with your knees atlas - by Mawk - December 16, 2018, 03:10 PM
RE: lift with your knees atlas - by Cyron - December 17, 2018, 04:42 AM
RE: lift with your knees atlas - by Mawk - December 19, 2018, 12:20 PM
RE: lift with your knees atlas - by Cyron - December 23, 2018, 05:44 AM
RE: lift with your knees atlas - by Mawk - December 25, 2018, 03:06 PM
RE: lift with your knees atlas - by RIP Valette - December 27, 2018, 04:17 PM