08-28-2016, 03:37 PM
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
OF MOVING ON
OF MOVING ON
He has been watching her from afar, drawn in by the golden shimmer that is so rarely seen. The ones who have possessed that memorable color have always been of his blood, but he doesn’t know this girl. There are resemblances in the angles of her face and the musculature of her body. It plays with his memory, drawing him in and pushing him out as he fights himself to identify her, but nothing comes of it. Little does he know how closely related they are, how their bodies are made nearly of the same material. The distance between them is enough to obscure his memory, to fool him into thinking that it’s just coincidence that she stands out to him. With his eyes never wavering Tiphon weighs the choices back and forth, but he doesn’t move until Killdare is already upon her, smelling thickly of the Chamber.
Their names are being sullenly exchanged when Tiphon arrives and takes his place opposite of the Chamberling. The piney scent of the kingdom brings him back to his birth when he had murdered both mother and father. It was for the good of Beqanna, he reassures himself, as his molten eyes rake over the stallion before slipping to Calleis. It doesn’t skip notice how heavily pregnant she is; the angel considers it with narrowed eyes, not in distaste but in thought, before his attention drifts to her own golden stare.
Moose. He can see his grandmother in the mare’s little smile and in her piercing stare. His breath catches in his throat and he finds himself unable to speak for a long moment until he is able to compose himself and hurriedly grope for his own name. ” Tiphon,” he finally says after swallowing the lump in his throat, his eyes searching her from underneath his forelock. His heart wants to reach out to her and to cradle her, as though they are meant to be pressed to each other’s sides. Its beat quickens painfully because he feels protective of her but isn’t quite sure why. ”Who—“ he wants to ask of her parents, but it’s as though his tongue swells to prevent him. He hesitates. While the air around them shimmers with his body’s halo, he resigns to simply say, ”I come from the Dale, if you’re interested to know more.”
Their names are being sullenly exchanged when Tiphon arrives and takes his place opposite of the Chamberling. The piney scent of the kingdom brings him back to his birth when he had murdered both mother and father. It was for the good of Beqanna, he reassures himself, as his molten eyes rake over the stallion before slipping to Calleis. It doesn’t skip notice how heavily pregnant she is; the angel considers it with narrowed eyes, not in distaste but in thought, before his attention drifts to her own golden stare.
Moose. He can see his grandmother in the mare’s little smile and in her piercing stare. His breath catches in his throat and he finds himself unable to speak for a long moment until he is able to compose himself and hurriedly grope for his own name. ” Tiphon,” he finally says after swallowing the lump in his throat, his eyes searching her from underneath his forelock. His heart wants to reach out to her and to cradle her, as though they are meant to be pressed to each other’s sides. Its beat quickens painfully because he feels protective of her but isn’t quite sure why. ”Who—“ he wants to ask of her parents, but it’s as though his tongue swells to prevent him. He hesitates. While the air around them shimmers with his body’s halo, he resigns to simply say, ”I come from the Dale, if you’re interested to know more.”
TIPHON
STARLACE AND INFECTION