05-08-2016, 07:48 AM
± when you feel my heat, look into my eyes ±
For a time they watch him in silence and he can do nothing but share that quiet. What jolts him to the core is that it is so deep that noiseless space, haunting and disappointing all the same, but he must bare it. He will bare it because he is a selfish man, a bullheaded man at times and it is not yet certain that he is as rational a thinker as they all expect him to be. His ways and words changed to suit his need, just as the shell of his body took on different levels of the earth but in the end, underneath all of it, he was just a man. Maybe a silly and stupid man, a love blinded fool, or a needy sap that didn’t know when to give up. Either way he is certain it is worth the ache it causes him, one look at their daughter assures him of this notion.
She is unbearably cute and she is outright gangly still in her newness, regardless, he cannot help the small smile that traces its way against his lips. Killdare watches as she tilts her tiny head to his legs, plucking at the coarse feathers that gather around their base. What is it she could be doing? Those are not for eating, but before he can say as much she lets go, simply inspecting the lengthy hairs. A small indigo pointed head looks at her own legs as the King watches in silent amusement, then the girl turns to look at her Dam’s stalks as well before she attempts to speak. First words are often simple, Victra’s prove intelligent, already observant in her young age. At this he chuckles, a rumbling noise that ends with approval, “I suppose you do look like the both of us don’t you? I think it is best that way.”
Just enough of each parent in the grand scheme of things. Some color from her mother and some from himself, though whose side in stature she would take after he was yet to be sure. Secretly he hoped she would be more gracefully built than himself as she aged but time would tell. For now he is content to enjoy her nearness and her easy questions that flow from her mouth like a river.
Others might have to think long on that answer, to tick off the years as if they had somehow forgotten, Killdare did not- he immediately knew. He was not a man to spread his seed carelessly throughout the reaches of Beqanna, instead he was more particular about the matter, choosey one might say. His pale green eyes lifted from the boney child near his side and held another set of emerald colored irises. “ Six years,” Was his answer, the words almost solemn as they passed from his head into existence. Six long years it had been and the child that resulted of one careless night was still practically a stranger, a woman grown now and though he had made to visit her it was never enough. After all this time he was still subject to his shortcomings and the results they left behind, maybe it would be that way always but he dare not think it.
If his words shook her he would not know, emotion was hard to read against the black band that traced her face, the sharp thorns that erupted from her crown to her nose’s bridge. He could forever watch her though, trying to discern the answers in the depths of her eyes or the lines against her face. Even now he just stares as she bends to trace her way against their daughter’s wings before she reaches to briefly touch his shoulder.
Killdare has known little of happiness in his life, sinking as she pulls away just as quickly as she leans in. Before she can retreat too far he snakes his neck above her own, tugging awkwardly to bring her back to his side where it is warm and they are a small if broken family.
"Stay..." the word is but a whisper against the velvet triangles of her ears.
She is unbearably cute and she is outright gangly still in her newness, regardless, he cannot help the small smile that traces its way against his lips. Killdare watches as she tilts her tiny head to his legs, plucking at the coarse feathers that gather around their base. What is it she could be doing? Those are not for eating, but before he can say as much she lets go, simply inspecting the lengthy hairs. A small indigo pointed head looks at her own legs as the King watches in silent amusement, then the girl turns to look at her Dam’s stalks as well before she attempts to speak. First words are often simple, Victra’s prove intelligent, already observant in her young age. At this he chuckles, a rumbling noise that ends with approval, “I suppose you do look like the both of us don’t you? I think it is best that way.”
Just enough of each parent in the grand scheme of things. Some color from her mother and some from himself, though whose side in stature she would take after he was yet to be sure. Secretly he hoped she would be more gracefully built than himself as she aged but time would tell. For now he is content to enjoy her nearness and her easy questions that flow from her mouth like a river.
Others might have to think long on that answer, to tick off the years as if they had somehow forgotten, Killdare did not- he immediately knew. He was not a man to spread his seed carelessly throughout the reaches of Beqanna, instead he was more particular about the matter, choosey one might say. His pale green eyes lifted from the boney child near his side and held another set of emerald colored irises. “ Six years,” Was his answer, the words almost solemn as they passed from his head into existence. Six long years it had been and the child that resulted of one careless night was still practically a stranger, a woman grown now and though he had made to visit her it was never enough. After all this time he was still subject to his shortcomings and the results they left behind, maybe it would be that way always but he dare not think it.
If his words shook her he would not know, emotion was hard to read against the black band that traced her face, the sharp thorns that erupted from her crown to her nose’s bridge. He could forever watch her though, trying to discern the answers in the depths of her eyes or the lines against her face. Even now he just stares as she bends to trace her way against their daughter’s wings before she reaches to briefly touch his shoulder.
Killdare has known little of happiness in his life, sinking as she pulls away just as quickly as she leans in. Before she can retreat too far he snakes his neck above her own, tugging awkwardly to bring her back to his side where it is warm and they are a small if broken family.
"Stay..." the word is but a whisper against the velvet triangles of her ears.
KILLDARE
magma King of the Chamber
it is muse, it is life <3