11-13-2019, 12:25 AM
OPHANIM
You might think that Ophanim would learn to stop being nervous with each new baby he fathers, and yet he finds himself pacing nervously throughout Loess. He ascends each rolling hill and continues on to the next one, hardly minding the cacti needles or prickly bushes near him. The angel boy only winces a bit when they scratch at him but seems otherwise unaware of his surroundings as he meanders. His thoughts remain solely on Starsin and their unborn this season. Malone and Lilt had each been born perfect and beautiful, of course, but there is always some deep-rooted fear in his heart. He knows others have not been so fortunate.
He finally comes to a stop on one of the taller Loessian hills and spreads his wings for a moment. When he was younger, he used to stand like this for ages before he knew how to fly. Ophie used to love the feeling of the wind through his feathers and it brought him a sense of peace when he found himself troubled. Back then, his worries revolved around whether Starsin would come back or not. It all seems so laughable to him now.
With no moon visible in the sky and only the weak glow of the stars overhead, the countless eyes lining the underside of his wings seem to shine like the sun. The ring around his neck, like the tear trails down his cheeks, likewise burn brightly. The furrow of his brows does not detract from his handsome face but he would find no comfort in this fact. He is consumed entirely by his cycling thoughts of his unborn child. What would he name it? It was his turn, after all.
He exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in and folds his wings across his back once more. The golden boy blinks and forces himself to take in his surroundings at the sound of hoofsteps behind him.
He finally comes to a stop on one of the taller Loessian hills and spreads his wings for a moment. When he was younger, he used to stand like this for ages before he knew how to fly. Ophie used to love the feeling of the wind through his feathers and it brought him a sense of peace when he found himself troubled. Back then, his worries revolved around whether Starsin would come back or not. It all seems so laughable to him now.
With no moon visible in the sky and only the weak glow of the stars overhead, the countless eyes lining the underside of his wings seem to shine like the sun. The ring around his neck, like the tear trails down his cheeks, likewise burn brightly. The furrow of his brows does not detract from his handsome face but he would find no comfort in this fact. He is consumed entirely by his cycling thoughts of his unborn child. What would he name it? It was his turn, after all.
He exhales a breath he hadn’t realized he was holding in and folds his wings across his back once more. The golden boy blinks and forces himself to take in his surroundings at the sound of hoofsteps behind him.
you could drown in those eyes, i said.