06-23-2020, 02:16 PM
GHAUL
And ye shall overthrow their altars, and break their pillars, and burn their groves with fire
He wonders what her Deserts were like. Pangea has been described as being like a desert, but he is at least intelligent enough to guess they are not quite the same. A frown develops across his lips. He can give her the sand and the sun, but it could never be the home she dreams of. Ghaul has only ever been strong enough to provide what his people need. Still, he finds himself trying to supply their every want as well.
Her words bring his attention back to her and he slowly shakes his head.
“No. I was born in the meadow snow,” he explains, remembering how the cold had tried to choke the life from him when he’d only just begun. “I was small and weak, born too soon. My mother died there, so my father took me to Pangea. Then he left and I grew up.”
Ghaul is careful to keep his emotions from spilling into the words. So much of his childhood was shaped by loneliness that he does not care to revisit those dark corridors of his mind. Instead, he keeps his sights trained on the future ahead. There will be time to mourn all these sad tales when he is dead and there is nothing but eternity stretching before him on the other side.
“I brought you here to keep my children safe when I am gone. I want them to have every opportunity to thrive,” he explains, turning his gaze in the direction of his nest. A selfish part of him would like to remain forever, to just lounge in the Cove and watch them grow each day. But he was not meant for such a lavish life and he knows this.
Her words bring his attention back to her and he slowly shakes his head.
“No. I was born in the meadow snow,” he explains, remembering how the cold had tried to choke the life from him when he’d only just begun. “I was small and weak, born too soon. My mother died there, so my father took me to Pangea. Then he left and I grew up.”
Ghaul is careful to keep his emotions from spilling into the words. So much of his childhood was shaped by loneliness that he does not care to revisit those dark corridors of his mind. Instead, he keeps his sights trained on the future ahead. There will be time to mourn all these sad tales when he is dead and there is nothing but eternity stretching before him on the other side.
“I brought you here to keep my children safe when I am gone. I want them to have every opportunity to thrive,” he explains, turning his gaze in the direction of his nest. A selfish part of him would like to remain forever, to just lounge in the Cove and watch them grow each day. But he was not meant for such a lavish life and he knows this.