02-01-2022, 09:12 PM
“For the last time, Arcturos, where are you?” Saint calls out, voice tinged with the sinking anger of an inexperienced, impatient, and exhausted mother. The growl that follows her question strikes fear into the boy’s heart, but still he does not reveal his location.
Curled beneath several low-hanging elephant ear leaves, Arcturos even holds his breath to ward off his mother’s dragon hearing. Next to him, snow-capped mushrooms lined with the palest of pinks thrive in the damp Tephran undergrowth. He busies himself counting between breaths and studying every perfect and imperfect piece of the billowy mushrooms.
Some feet away, Arc hears the heavy swish of his mother’s spiked tail wipe away dense jungle foliage. The boy tenses, preparing for the wrath Saint will bring down upon him once she discovers he’s been so close the entire time.
But it never comes. She never bothers to use her infrared vision. She doesn’t even snarl again. What he overhears her mutter is more crushing than her poorly-executed punishments.
“Not abandoning him to the Elk is my greatest mistake yet.”
It wasn’t her fault, Arc is thinking absently as the memory resurfaces. He’s lazily studying Allaire, glimmering eyes rolling here and there. What was he doing here?
Her fur. Yes, the pale pink and white of her. Like the cloudy mushrooms beneath the elephant ear. She, delicate as the fungi, is so unlike him. That’s why he’s here. To know something other than himself and his mother.
“You’re welcome,” Arc answers after an awkward few moments. He huffs a sighing laugh to himself and adds, “Most can’t see me, and those who do, do not want to.” Not wishing to elaborate, he quickly asks, “What’s your name? Mine is Arcturos.”
Curled beneath several low-hanging elephant ear leaves, Arcturos even holds his breath to ward off his mother’s dragon hearing. Next to him, snow-capped mushrooms lined with the palest of pinks thrive in the damp Tephran undergrowth. He busies himself counting between breaths and studying every perfect and imperfect piece of the billowy mushrooms.
Some feet away, Arc hears the heavy swish of his mother’s spiked tail wipe away dense jungle foliage. The boy tenses, preparing for the wrath Saint will bring down upon him once she discovers he’s been so close the entire time.
But it never comes. She never bothers to use her infrared vision. She doesn’t even snarl again. What he overhears her mutter is more crushing than her poorly-executed punishments.
“Not abandoning him to the Elk is my greatest mistake yet.”
It wasn’t her fault, Arc is thinking absently as the memory resurfaces. He’s lazily studying Allaire, glimmering eyes rolling here and there. What was he doing here?
Her fur. Yes, the pale pink and white of her. Like the cloudy mushrooms beneath the elephant ear. She, delicate as the fungi, is so unlike him. That’s why he’s here. To know something other than himself and his mother.
“You’re welcome,” Arc answers after an awkward few moments. He huffs a sighing laugh to himself and adds, “Most can’t see me, and those who do, do not want to.” Not wishing to elaborate, he quickly asks, “What’s your name? Mine is Arcturos.”