06-25-2016, 02:45 PM
keep you like an oath
may nothing but death do us part
may nothing but death do us part
The whole event interests him less and less these days, he often finds himself uncaring if he is present or not. Once you had seen one birth, well, if you asked him- you’ve seen them all. Kirin’s begun checking in less, counting his band few and far-between. Most had wandered off as well, he hadn’t made motion to keep them or round them up. They were unimportant when he stopped to think about it, merely pawns for use in the grand game.
Herd life has become rather dull to the lavender leviathan. Did we expect any less?
There are really only two women left that cause him any amount of concern or special attention and that is Capture and Misra. The others are simply that, others, and he for the most part has left them to their own devices.His children are another story. While their Dam’s interest him very little he still covets all the special little sweetlings that have sprung from his loins. Little traited things running around with purple hair or tinted pelts. They all held that one particular quality too, that purple thread that distinguished them as his.
Few have enough of what it takes to harness the beast’s attention and today one of those particular few needs checking on.
Misra was one of the special things given to him, a present if we shall call her such. Grandmama had been ever so gracious and loyal and helpful. He can clearly recall the day of their meeting as he soars over the ocean, silvery eyes alert for any speck of black against the sands. She was a young thing then, she is a young thing still but now she is made a woman. Back then she was gangling and feathered, black as oil with a sheen to her wings like they had been dipped in snow. A gentle young girl and perhaps she was gentle still but Kirin had taken to unsettling that gentle nature, if only just. He couldn’t leave her whole, he left none of them that way, the world was not made for the meek- especially not Kirin’s world.
There are no black frames among the beaches, nor curled against the hills, and when he can not see her he begins his descent. A familiar scent of blood and birth reaches him and it is only a matter of time before he peeks his head into the chosen cave. Even without light his silver eyes gleam if but for a moment, quite like a cat, as they adjust to the rising sun. Already the world is brightening around him, revealing the dark form of the woman and the plummy pelt of a boy he knows is his without asking. There are no traces of the unique against his otherwise flawless, tiny body and though he frowns he is not cruel when he acknowledges her work. “A son,” he says simply but it is evident at this time that the child is just that. Just a son. Kirin doesn’t have any reason to believe that beside the deep purple of his skin the boy is plain.l
Herd life has become rather dull to the lavender leviathan. Did we expect any less?
There are really only two women left that cause him any amount of concern or special attention and that is Capture and Misra. The others are simply that, others, and he for the most part has left them to their own devices.His children are another story. While their Dam’s interest him very little he still covets all the special little sweetlings that have sprung from his loins. Little traited things running around with purple hair or tinted pelts. They all held that one particular quality too, that purple thread that distinguished them as his.
Few have enough of what it takes to harness the beast’s attention and today one of those particular few needs checking on.
Misra was one of the special things given to him, a present if we shall call her such. Grandmama had been ever so gracious and loyal and helpful. He can clearly recall the day of their meeting as he soars over the ocean, silvery eyes alert for any speck of black against the sands. She was a young thing then, she is a young thing still but now she is made a woman. Back then she was gangling and feathered, black as oil with a sheen to her wings like they had been dipped in snow. A gentle young girl and perhaps she was gentle still but Kirin had taken to unsettling that gentle nature, if only just. He couldn’t leave her whole, he left none of them that way, the world was not made for the meek- especially not Kirin’s world.
There are no black frames among the beaches, nor curled against the hills, and when he can not see her he begins his descent. A familiar scent of blood and birth reaches him and it is only a matter of time before he peeks his head into the chosen cave. Even without light his silver eyes gleam if but for a moment, quite like a cat, as they adjust to the rising sun. Already the world is brightening around him, revealing the dark form of the woman and the plummy pelt of a boy he knows is his without asking. There are no traces of the unique against his otherwise flawless, tiny body and though he frowns he is not cruel when he acknowledges her work. “A son,” he says simply but it is evident at this time that the child is just that. Just a son. Kirin doesn’t have any reason to believe that beside the deep purple of his skin the boy is plain.l
Kirin
son of khaos