10-06-2018, 07:22 PM
hold me in this wild, wild world
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
Many of them do not understand.
They don’t understand how he can love them, all of them, and welcome them home (wherever home is) with open arms, but yet be largely unconcerned when they’re off doing whatever else they do. There are exceptions, of course, children he worries about more than others, but Kybeth had always been a perfectly reasonable child who had grown into an adventurous adult. He’s surprised, but pleased, to feel the boy’s signature ping against his watery alarm systems today.
The bay stallion changes course, trotting with long strides down paths that are dappled from the sun’s long journey down through the palm fronds. In the end, they reach the shore at about the same time, the bay stallion emerging from the foliage just in time to hear the boy’s curious whinny. Brennen responds, voice low and unchanged from the passing of time. “Kybeth.” Brennen crosses the sand and reaches out to run his nose down his son’s neck, inhaling his familiar scent and briefly remembering a before, when Kybeth was a baby-fluffy and gangly as the two newborns still ensconced deep in Ischia with his mate.
“Welcome home,” he says it with a half-smile on his face, but a true one; “What have you been up to?”
They don’t understand how he can love them, all of them, and welcome them home (wherever home is) with open arms, but yet be largely unconcerned when they’re off doing whatever else they do. There are exceptions, of course, children he worries about more than others, but Kybeth had always been a perfectly reasonable child who had grown into an adventurous adult. He’s surprised, but pleased, to feel the boy’s signature ping against his watery alarm systems today.
The bay stallion changes course, trotting with long strides down paths that are dappled from the sun’s long journey down through the palm fronds. In the end, they reach the shore at about the same time, the bay stallion emerging from the foliage just in time to hear the boy’s curious whinny. Brennen responds, voice low and unchanged from the passing of time. “Kybeth.” Brennen crosses the sand and reaches out to run his nose down his son’s neck, inhaling his familiar scent and briefly remembering a before, when Kybeth was a baby-fluffy and gangly as the two newborns still ensconced deep in Ischia with his mate.
“Welcome home,” he says it with a half-smile on his face, but a true one; “What have you been up to?”
hold me in this wild, wild world
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
BRENNEN
@[Kybeth] sorry this took so long :/