05-28-2018, 11:32 AM
Belgaer
The grass is sweet upon his taste buds. Different from the usual island fare he’d been raised upon. Bathed in the coolness of the shadow of his chosen spot, he relished in the simplicity of the rare moment of quiet. Although he had made diplomacy his life’s purpose, the constant chatter had grown unescapably loud. The winter had been a torrent of missions for the islanders. Striving for peace had required the chestnut had rarely been home. He’d missed his siblings – and his parents. It was becoming easier to accept, however. The new life he led was vastly different than any he’d known thus far, but it was oddly comforting to know that this would not be the final change he would experience throughout his endless life. Immortality was a heavy burden to carry, but it was one he strove to embrace.
The sound of foals at play is a welcome distraction from the sudden darkness of his thoughts and Belgaer smiles despite himself. Instantly he is reminded of Khaeli and the newest sibling he had yet to meet. Innocent in every way, the twins’ smiles represented the good he believed still existed in Beqanna. His eyes do not remain upon them for long as a soft voice beckons for his attention. He turns around in time to see the black mare who’s shade he’s shared approaching, a kind smile upon her face.
Her brown eyes are friendly and he mirrors the expression, her gentle voice greeting him, lyrical and light.
“Not at all,” he reassures with a welcoming nod. “I am the one who intruded upon your shade, after all.” He smiles teasingly. “My name is Belgaer.”
It is not often that he can escape the weight of his identity and it was liberating to steal a moment for himself. When paired with his father’s name, he became somehow different. Royalty, even.
The sound of foals at play is a welcome distraction from the sudden darkness of his thoughts and Belgaer smiles despite himself. Instantly he is reminded of Khaeli and the newest sibling he had yet to meet. Innocent in every way, the twins’ smiles represented the good he believed still existed in Beqanna. His eyes do not remain upon them for long as a soft voice beckons for his attention. He turns around in time to see the black mare who’s shade he’s shared approaching, a kind smile upon her face.
Her brown eyes are friendly and he mirrors the expression, her gentle voice greeting him, lyrical and light.
“Not at all,” he reassures with a welcoming nod. “I am the one who intruded upon your shade, after all.” He smiles teasingly. “My name is Belgaer.”
It is not often that he can escape the weight of his identity and it was liberating to steal a moment for himself. When paired with his father’s name, he became somehow different. Royalty, even.
The Prodigal Son
@[wound]