01-24-2017, 04:52 PM
Time had done wonders for Kilter - the frost bitten skin that marred his body had healed over, his strength had returned, his bony ribs had begun to recede back into his body. Even his demeanor had changed, ever so slightly. While still often serious and wary, there were moments of childish joy ; teasing Raeg’n with a pull of her mane, or taking delight in splashing her in the small resevoirs of water in Pangea. Raeg’n, ever his Angel, had saved Kilter from Death, tossing him into the night sky to glow like the young boy he should.
Her voice rang out, melodic like a safe haven, and Kilter tossed his head behind him, catching the Angel’s eyes. “ I won’t, Angel!” He lept into the river, the current wavering him and his still-weak body slightly before finding footing on the rocks. It was so easy to be fearless in the face of his Angel - she was a lighthouse in the storm, and knew should he come to dash upon the rocks, that she would be there to save him.
They had weathered the rest of winter out in the desolate Pangea, and Death had still not sought them - which, Kilter assumed, was for the better. Death had yet to decide what to do with the young telekinetic. Now, the Angel had decided that Kilter was strong enough for them to wander, to escape the vapid clutches of Pangea and what little it had to offer. Kilter trusted her, and so followed where she led - this time, to a grassy coastline that flourished with excitement and adventure.
He nosed at the grass, peering at the new spring buds that were shooting up, inspecting the vast array of insects and creatures that flounced through the land. He was always careful to look back up for his Angel. This time, his search for her led to a peel of laughter from his mouth. There she was, at arms with a tree. He laughed, watching her rake out at its bark, but reveling in her strength and might. She had always (save for her encounter with Deimos) - been withdrawn, serious, and rarely had to move to protect him. Here, though, she fought with a fearlessness and concentration.
And so he watched carefully, before approaching her and calling out. “Will you teach me that one day?”
Her voice rang out, melodic like a safe haven, and Kilter tossed his head behind him, catching the Angel’s eyes. “ I won’t, Angel!” He lept into the river, the current wavering him and his still-weak body slightly before finding footing on the rocks. It was so easy to be fearless in the face of his Angel - she was a lighthouse in the storm, and knew should he come to dash upon the rocks, that she would be there to save him.
They had weathered the rest of winter out in the desolate Pangea, and Death had still not sought them - which, Kilter assumed, was for the better. Death had yet to decide what to do with the young telekinetic. Now, the Angel had decided that Kilter was strong enough for them to wander, to escape the vapid clutches of Pangea and what little it had to offer. Kilter trusted her, and so followed where she led - this time, to a grassy coastline that flourished with excitement and adventure.
He nosed at the grass, peering at the new spring buds that were shooting up, inspecting the vast array of insects and creatures that flounced through the land. He was always careful to look back up for his Angel. This time, his search for her led to a peel of laughter from his mouth. There she was, at arms with a tree. He laughed, watching her rake out at its bark, but reveling in her strength and might. She had always (save for her encounter with Deimos) - been withdrawn, serious, and rarely had to move to protect him. Here, though, she fought with a fearlessness and concentration.
And so he watched carefully, before approaching her and calling out. “Will you teach me that one day?”