04-02-2016, 01:28 PM
BROTHER, LET ME BE YOUR FORTRESS, WHEN THE NIGHT WINDS ARE DRIVING ON.
I CAN BE THE ONE TO LIGHT YOUR WAY; I WILL BRING YOU HOME.
The winter had been brutal and insufferable for many - mostly those who had not yet acclimated to its ferocity and intensity, especially the thick blizzards of flurries that traveled through and the whipping winds that followed. His mass of muscle and fur had left him with a strong defense against the colder elements, but now he had simply become one of them. His flesh was more often than not covered in a sheen of frost (especially when venturing into warmer territory, which he now felt was more uncomfortable than ever) and there were always thick, albeit small ice crystals hanging between his tangled tresses.
He had become one with his own kingdom, and it suited him well. He could not imagine leaving its icy embrace, for it brought him more numbing comfort than any other land mass ever had. The memories of his loss and devastation had ebbed - his mind was much more rampantly filled with the concerns of others, with the welfare of those who would carry the world on their shoulders for decades to come. Time was fleeting, and with every day that dredged on, he'd become more and more acutely aware of it.
His weary body moved through his altogether familiar kingdom, dark eyes traveling along its familiar walls of ice and waning, melting piles of snow, which trickle away beneath the bright, warming sun of spring. It is difficult to believe he had been away so long, so often - diplomacy took time, days at a time, and winter had come and gone before his very eyes. A melancholy ache rose in his chest as he thought of his precious Isle, who he had only been able to steal away between the evenings of his leave, trailing soft kisses and unspoken words. It had been tense and terse between them in the past months - she, struggling with the weight of his responsibilities, and he, struggling with the pressure of caring for so many.
They had drifted, separated, and though he had seen her at a distance, he now only craved her touch. He could feel himself growing more tired by the moment - he had not rest much, intellectually or physically, and he wanted nothing more than to melt against her and allow his tense worries to melt away. Wordlessly. He could not burden her with his heaviest thoughts, for she was gentle, fragile and he wanted desperately to protect her. He wanted to offer her solace and comfort; not trouble her with his obligations. His hefty weight left thick prints in the melting top layer of permafrost, small specks of green peeking out from beneath the slush that lie across the flatland.
Another reminder of time. The death of the land had resulted in the birth of a new season, and he had been away for most of it. He wondered, as his crimson eyes strained and bored into the valley, if she had gone. Would he have noticed? A lurch within the pit of his stomach told him no, and a heavy wave of dread washed over him in the form of thick ice, which encased his spine and tangled itself between the individual hairs of his mane.
He would not have noticed, for he had been too preoccupied securing the future of others - and himself. He missed her, gravely, and would be swept with angst and anxiety if he were to find she had gone away. He could only hope that she understood he had not stayed away on purpose. Alliances were of such importance, and once established, would result in safety, in growth, in comfort. He wanted nothing more than to provide that for his men, and for their women. For their children. Still, he had spent too much time away, and his bones and heart ached for her again.
The bleak morning light bathes the terrain in its warmth and pure illumination, causing the melting ice to reflect brilliant hues of red, blue and yellow, welcoming him home and he cannot imagine anywhere else he would rather be. He searches still, nostrils pressed to the breeze as he tries to catch her sight, his eyes peering to catch sight of her - to no avail, until .. he can feel his heart skip a solid beat, and she is there. Relief floods through him with such intensity that he finds himself overcome with emotion for a moment. His lazy stride turns into a hefty trot as he closes the space between them, but pulls himself at a full stop as he takes in the sight of her.
She is beautiful - ravishing, even - awash with light from the pale morning sun, highlighting her soft, feminine features - her bright, albeit uncertain eyes - her thick, voluptuous and now heavy curves. He stares for a long moment, stunned - the breath escapes him, and he forgets to breathe. Her warmth presses against him, and he draws her close, though his eyes never move away from the obvious, swaying swell of her belly. Her kisses (he had missed them so) trailed along his neck and his jawline, and her sweet, soft words (the first he had heard in many months) ring in his ears. Father?
The word was bittersweet. He had been a father many times, and the familiar anxiety of loss begins to flow through his veins, filling him with apprehension. He could remember their sweet, innocent lives - the way their innocence painted his days with broad strokes of hope and affection. He remembered their undue deaths, the way losing them weighed so heavily on him. Eternity was a long time to spend alone, to spend waiting for the inevitable end of the ones he loved. He tries to shake it (steeling and burying his thoughts, not wanting her to see), his lips moving to travel along her own neck, though his eyes remain settled on her belly. On her pregnant belly. He thinks of Thaniel, of Maribel, of the closeness he has gained with each of them. He thinks of the soft kisses of the beautiful mare standing before him, revealing a secret she was evidently tentative to give away, and how he had once thought love was something he would never find again.
His lips touch her shoulder, and then he steps forward to touch the bridge of his nose to her belly, to nuzzle and nudge it, before he looks to her again, wide crimson eyes inquisitive.
"Isle, you're pregnant? How have I not known?" The past slips away, evoking regret in the depths of his chest. How did he not see it sooner? "You look stunning," He murmurs, his lips to her ear now before he nibbles along the length of her neck, drawing her close to his chest. "forgive me for not seeing this sooner. You're really pregnant?" He knows the answer, but he needs to hear it. The weight of its reality dangles over him, and there is wavering hope on the edges of his deep bartion. He knows the consequences, he knows what the future holds - but time is fleeting, and he desperately hopes she says yes.
He had become one with his own kingdom, and it suited him well. He could not imagine leaving its icy embrace, for it brought him more numbing comfort than any other land mass ever had. The memories of his loss and devastation had ebbed - his mind was much more rampantly filled with the concerns of others, with the welfare of those who would carry the world on their shoulders for decades to come. Time was fleeting, and with every day that dredged on, he'd become more and more acutely aware of it.
His weary body moved through his altogether familiar kingdom, dark eyes traveling along its familiar walls of ice and waning, melting piles of snow, which trickle away beneath the bright, warming sun of spring. It is difficult to believe he had been away so long, so often - diplomacy took time, days at a time, and winter had come and gone before his very eyes. A melancholy ache rose in his chest as he thought of his precious Isle, who he had only been able to steal away between the evenings of his leave, trailing soft kisses and unspoken words. It had been tense and terse between them in the past months - she, struggling with the weight of his responsibilities, and he, struggling with the pressure of caring for so many.
They had drifted, separated, and though he had seen her at a distance, he now only craved her touch. He could feel himself growing more tired by the moment - he had not rest much, intellectually or physically, and he wanted nothing more than to melt against her and allow his tense worries to melt away. Wordlessly. He could not burden her with his heaviest thoughts, for she was gentle, fragile and he wanted desperately to protect her. He wanted to offer her solace and comfort; not trouble her with his obligations. His hefty weight left thick prints in the melting top layer of permafrost, small specks of green peeking out from beneath the slush that lie across the flatland.
Another reminder of time. The death of the land had resulted in the birth of a new season, and he had been away for most of it. He wondered, as his crimson eyes strained and bored into the valley, if she had gone. Would he have noticed? A lurch within the pit of his stomach told him no, and a heavy wave of dread washed over him in the form of thick ice, which encased his spine and tangled itself between the individual hairs of his mane.
He would not have noticed, for he had been too preoccupied securing the future of others - and himself. He missed her, gravely, and would be swept with angst and anxiety if he were to find she had gone away. He could only hope that she understood he had not stayed away on purpose. Alliances were of such importance, and once established, would result in safety, in growth, in comfort. He wanted nothing more than to provide that for his men, and for their women. For their children. Still, he had spent too much time away, and his bones and heart ached for her again.
The bleak morning light bathes the terrain in its warmth and pure illumination, causing the melting ice to reflect brilliant hues of red, blue and yellow, welcoming him home and he cannot imagine anywhere else he would rather be. He searches still, nostrils pressed to the breeze as he tries to catch her sight, his eyes peering to catch sight of her - to no avail, until .. he can feel his heart skip a solid beat, and she is there. Relief floods through him with such intensity that he finds himself overcome with emotion for a moment. His lazy stride turns into a hefty trot as he closes the space between them, but pulls himself at a full stop as he takes in the sight of her.
She is beautiful - ravishing, even - awash with light from the pale morning sun, highlighting her soft, feminine features - her bright, albeit uncertain eyes - her thick, voluptuous and now heavy curves. He stares for a long moment, stunned - the breath escapes him, and he forgets to breathe. Her warmth presses against him, and he draws her close, though his eyes never move away from the obvious, swaying swell of her belly. Her kisses (he had missed them so) trailed along his neck and his jawline, and her sweet, soft words (the first he had heard in many months) ring in his ears. Father?
The word was bittersweet. He had been a father many times, and the familiar anxiety of loss begins to flow through his veins, filling him with apprehension. He could remember their sweet, innocent lives - the way their innocence painted his days with broad strokes of hope and affection. He remembered their undue deaths, the way losing them weighed so heavily on him. Eternity was a long time to spend alone, to spend waiting for the inevitable end of the ones he loved. He tries to shake it (steeling and burying his thoughts, not wanting her to see), his lips moving to travel along her own neck, though his eyes remain settled on her belly. On her pregnant belly. He thinks of Thaniel, of Maribel, of the closeness he has gained with each of them. He thinks of the soft kisses of the beautiful mare standing before him, revealing a secret she was evidently tentative to give away, and how he had once thought love was something he would never find again.
His lips touch her shoulder, and then he steps forward to touch the bridge of his nose to her belly, to nuzzle and nudge it, before he looks to her again, wide crimson eyes inquisitive.
"Isle, you're pregnant? How have I not known?" The past slips away, evoking regret in the depths of his chest. How did he not see it sooner? "You look stunning," He murmurs, his lips to her ear now before he nibbles along the length of her neck, drawing her close to his chest. "forgive me for not seeing this sooner. You're really pregnant?" He knows the answer, but he needs to hear it. The weight of its reality dangles over him, and there is wavering hope on the edges of his deep bartion. He knows the consequences, he knows what the future holds - but time is fleeting, and he desperately hopes she says yes.
OFFSPRING
the ice king of the tundra