starry dynamo in the machinery of night
Godbear was mostly a ghost -a straying creature that did not quite have a place or position in life. He was, by most standards, a loner - befriending just one person in his life (Oh Nera, how he missed her so!). And even that had been (what felt like) eons ago. Before. Before his father had so callously plucked him from the earth and thrown him to the skies once again; to stay frozen in time up in the cosmos. Why his father continually did this, Godbear did not know. Perhaps it was just the callousness in his heart, maybe it was his intent to keep Godbear safe and eternal in life, or perhaps it was simply boredom.
But now, Godbear was free once more. Shot from the stars, back on Beqanna’s soil, ready to begin his life anew (again). Of course, it is so very hard to start any kind of life when it is so easily taken from you, so his trepidation is high when it comes to meeting any new soul - to forging any new bond - to finding any new home. Instead, he roams - flighty and timid, unused to equine interaction and a place so solidly away from the stars. Today, that place is the river - a cool respite from the waning heat of summer.
He quietly waits in the shady umbrella of the trees dotting near the river; never quite approaching, but not tucked away far enough from the calm murmurs of equine sipping their fill. It is there, from his shaded seclusion, that his eye catches the bright winking flecks on a night-dark body. That smattering of stars, oblong and branching out - the call of the ursus. Godbear inhales sharply - he knows that marking - he knows because his father seared it into his skin, a dark and shattering memory from none too long ago, the pain still so vividly felt.
Without thinking, he starts from the shady underbrush, intent and determined towards her. How? Why? What had she done to his father to riddle her skin with this mark too? “When?” Though his determination was mighty, his voice is soft and probing - a gentle question for fear of bringing back a poor memory. “When did he do that to you too?” His good eye flicks to her left side - ironic, almost, in how it marked her left, the only side that was of good use to Godbear.
@[Caelestra]