THRALL

THRALL

He has worked diligently throughout the day, gathering the last of this year’s flowers. Not many of them match his mother’s colors as he had initially planned, but he likes this bouquet just fine. Regardless, the sun has begun its descent toward the horizon and so he hurries to the beach where Evia is normally basking in the humid shade of palm trees.

Thrall takes small bouncing steps that send the cluster of flowers bobbing between his teeth. He’s a cheerful boy who spends most of his days collecting things like this. He remains blissfully unaware that his father would, perhaps, chase him from the beaches if he knew he had a son that did not match his hoard of other children. But Ivar remains sealed safely in his hole, leaving Thrall to run along the sand unbothered.

“Mama! I got some good ones today!” he calls with his mouthful of blossoms. He can’t spot her from where he waits and so he assumes she must be beneath the waves. Thrall delicately places his flowers on the sand and cranes his head to try and spot her. She always returns, spinning tales of what she sees down there on the ocean floor. A wide grin overtakes his navy face as he eagerly awaits her arrival.

The warm autumn sun remains high enough above the waves to send his silver and gold markings glimmering across his skin. He is a handsome thing, but he doesn’t concern himself with looks. He remains entirely preoccupied with his games and his ‘valuables’ - dried petals, shiny rocks, and broken shells all gathered somewhere in the resort. Thrall hopes Evia deems today’s treasures worthy of keeping as well.

come closer, i'll give you all my love.