11-24-2018, 02:17 PM
I would know those green eyes anywhere. Even from this distance, even with the way he has grown in the last six months, I recognize Delta. When Arthas had thrown me from Sylva, he had made it quite clear that Delta would not be coming with me. That hadn't surprised me. The boy had always been closer to his father, and I have assumed he chose to stay in the forest rather than return to his birthland - our homeland - Loess.
Leaving Pteron where he dozes, I cross the hundred yards between us without thought, my blue-grey eyes fixed on the buckskin colt. It is clear that the boy is the son of Arthas, and it is easily believable that I am his mother. We share the same pale bodies and dark hair, even the splashes of white paint markings across our coats.
Had I known he thought me ambitious, I might have laughed.
Ambitious isn't quite the right descriptor. I do truly not want more than what I have. I only want to ensure that I recover what has always been mine, the power and influence that I should rightfully have. I want the same for Delta, the same for Pteron. My children.
The emotion I feel for the acidic buckskin is not the same as for my winged newborn, but that does not make it any less. I loved him as I'd have loved my firstborn; my fault lies in my lack of parenting abilities.
"Hello Delta." Because I am unsure what Delta might think of me I do not crowd him, but rather stop a comfortable enough speaking distance away. We had not been a hugging family (my fault, like most things) but the smile I wear is warm and easy. With his father gone I had hoped to see him sooner, but the world that has been disrupted by the Plague is a strange and frightening one, and we all react differently to fear.
Leaving Pteron where he dozes, I cross the hundred yards between us without thought, my blue-grey eyes fixed on the buckskin colt. It is clear that the boy is the son of Arthas, and it is easily believable that I am his mother. We share the same pale bodies and dark hair, even the splashes of white paint markings across our coats.
Had I known he thought me ambitious, I might have laughed.
Ambitious isn't quite the right descriptor. I do truly not want more than what I have. I only want to ensure that I recover what has always been mine, the power and influence that I should rightfully have. I want the same for Delta, the same for Pteron. My children.
The emotion I feel for the acidic buckskin is not the same as for my winged newborn, but that does not make it any less. I loved him as I'd have loved my firstborn; my fault lies in my lack of parenting abilities.
"Hello Delta." Because I am unsure what Delta might think of me I do not crowd him, but rather stop a comfortable enough speaking distance away. We had not been a hugging family (my fault, like most things) but the smile I wear is warm and easy. With his father gone I had hoped to see him sooner, but the world that has been disrupted by the Plague is a strange and frightening one, and we all react differently to fear.
