09-29-2015, 11:30 PM
He arrives in a fit of handsomeness.
Dalten is, after all, the perfection of strong breeding.
At first, he lingers in the distance. After all, she isn’t just his mother, she is Queen Lagertha, and therefore he couldn’t just waltz up casually. She already expected so much more from him, and to arrive unprepared would be a nail in his coffin.
So instead, he stands in the shadows like he knew how to do best. Technically, he hadn’t really been christened a Dale dweller yet, he just sort of hung around, unheard of unseen of, and debated on whether this was truly what he needed.
Sometimes he thought the isolation of the Tundra would suit him better. Everyone in the Tundra hides from socialization.
But yet the legacy of his father, the history of his family, and the prominent fact that he had ruler-blood, kept him stuck and locked cold on the Dale. He couldn’t rule the Amazons, he didn’t have the gender for it, and so the Dale was his nesting ground. His born to be here kingdom.
Now, if only he had the personality of a ruler.
Entertaining himself, he flickers with what he has gotten to practice with most: electricity. He starts with feeling the hum of vibration in his feet, toying with baby blue sparks and stripes fluorescent against his black hooves. He increases his power till it tickles at his knees, growing the power closer and closer to his withers till lightning sparks zoom across his body like angled wires. All the time spent in the shadows gave him opportunity to master a skill he could never quite put a hold on.
A mare approaches mother first, and Dalten rests his blue eyes on her delicate figure. He can hardly hear her tone on account of the wind direction, but her softened hum sounds inviting enough that Lagertha wasn’t being viewed as threatening. And yet, Dalten couldn’t help but be surprised. He knew of his mother’s softness, her way of showing love and affection. He also knew of how others respected her, how they didn’t cross her boundary or test her patience. She had an aura of glory that demanded to be noticed. Perhaps he half expected everyone to be a little on edge in her presence, she truly is a woman of recognition.
A second pungent Amazon smell lifts from the air in a nauseating way. It was slightly overwhelming to be so familiar with the sense of home. He had practically gotten accustomed to the rich smell of pine. Perhaps his mother would have forgotten him altogether by now—his smell, his face, his delicate features, his powerful stance. Without the smell of Amazonians clinging to his skin, would she remember his name?
and her daughter, Sette
His stomach cringes in the most unusual way, a flicker of blue lightning crawling across his back in irritation. If the first fails, the second will succeed.
He didn’t know if he felt sick from being replaced, or sick from scolding her on the fact she reproduced a second time. He couldn’t fault her, he hadn’t been the easiest of children being all dreary and explorative. He hadn’t given her the slightest bit of reward for her spontaneous reproduction. Perhaps Sette would be a better candidate to set fire to her lines.
A man was reluctantly at side, making him smirk at the sight. It wasn’t the first (or last) time Dalten had witnessed an prisoner at the chain of an Amazonian. It also wasn’t the first time that prisoner happened to be a miserable male. Thankfully, being non-cooperative with other kingdoms assured Dalten for the time being he was safe from petty stealing. Though, by the looks of his consistent lingering in the Dale, his clock might be clicking short.
I like the trees
He couldn’t stop staring at her with a gaping mouth. She shared similar characteristics that he had, being the children of Lagertha they were bound to have resemblances. He looked far more like her as a child than a growing adult, however. But still, his blue eyes stayed trained on her petite frame.
A jungle princess.
As he is the jungle prince.
Finally someone from the Dale rose to the occasion. Ea, she introduced herself as. He watches her with a spark of intensity, eyeing her movement. He feels foolish now, wanting to approach. She wouldn’t know him, wouldn’t know him to be a Dale dweller. He isn’t. He will be, should be… Perhaps after this meeting that can be arranged. However until then, a third stranger reeking of their kingdom might be a little more odd than the three females with a male in tow visiting.
And finally, HE arrives. The king, the representative, the leader. Dalten watches him with respect, as he floats to the scene and handles it like a breeze. The introverted colt had far too much to learn.
Perhaps his joining of the Dale can commence at similar times as meeting his mother.
How convenient.
It doesn’t end though, more and more faces keep arriving and Dalten feels his anxiety begin to peak.
Lord, have mercy on me.
And so he approaches.
He curls to himself, finding a gaping spot between some Dale folk, and settles himself nicely within his comfort zone. He cocks his right hind, eyeing the peculiar child from the corner of his eye, inhaling the sweet memorable scent of home, and then finally focuses his attention on her.
Mother.
“Hello, mom” he says with a deep masculine tone that surely wasn’t there when he left the jungle so long ago. He feels sheepish, childish approaching her like this. But yet, he does.
Dalten is, after all, the perfection of strong breeding.
At first, he lingers in the distance. After all, she isn’t just his mother, she is Queen Lagertha, and therefore he couldn’t just waltz up casually. She already expected so much more from him, and to arrive unprepared would be a nail in his coffin.
So instead, he stands in the shadows like he knew how to do best. Technically, he hadn’t really been christened a Dale dweller yet, he just sort of hung around, unheard of unseen of, and debated on whether this was truly what he needed.
Sometimes he thought the isolation of the Tundra would suit him better. Everyone in the Tundra hides from socialization.
But yet the legacy of his father, the history of his family, and the prominent fact that he had ruler-blood, kept him stuck and locked cold on the Dale. He couldn’t rule the Amazons, he didn’t have the gender for it, and so the Dale was his nesting ground. His born to be here kingdom.
Now, if only he had the personality of a ruler.
Entertaining himself, he flickers with what he has gotten to practice with most: electricity. He starts with feeling the hum of vibration in his feet, toying with baby blue sparks and stripes fluorescent against his black hooves. He increases his power till it tickles at his knees, growing the power closer and closer to his withers till lightning sparks zoom across his body like angled wires. All the time spent in the shadows gave him opportunity to master a skill he could never quite put a hold on.
A mare approaches mother first, and Dalten rests his blue eyes on her delicate figure. He can hardly hear her tone on account of the wind direction, but her softened hum sounds inviting enough that Lagertha wasn’t being viewed as threatening. And yet, Dalten couldn’t help but be surprised. He knew of his mother’s softness, her way of showing love and affection. He also knew of how others respected her, how they didn’t cross her boundary or test her patience. She had an aura of glory that demanded to be noticed. Perhaps he half expected everyone to be a little on edge in her presence, she truly is a woman of recognition.
A second pungent Amazon smell lifts from the air in a nauseating way. It was slightly overwhelming to be so familiar with the sense of home. He had practically gotten accustomed to the rich smell of pine. Perhaps his mother would have forgotten him altogether by now—his smell, his face, his delicate features, his powerful stance. Without the smell of Amazonians clinging to his skin, would she remember his name?
and her daughter, Sette
His stomach cringes in the most unusual way, a flicker of blue lightning crawling across his back in irritation. If the first fails, the second will succeed.
He didn’t know if he felt sick from being replaced, or sick from scolding her on the fact she reproduced a second time. He couldn’t fault her, he hadn’t been the easiest of children being all dreary and explorative. He hadn’t given her the slightest bit of reward for her spontaneous reproduction. Perhaps Sette would be a better candidate to set fire to her lines.
A man was reluctantly at side, making him smirk at the sight. It wasn’t the first (or last) time Dalten had witnessed an prisoner at the chain of an Amazonian. It also wasn’t the first time that prisoner happened to be a miserable male. Thankfully, being non-cooperative with other kingdoms assured Dalten for the time being he was safe from petty stealing. Though, by the looks of his consistent lingering in the Dale, his clock might be clicking short.
I like the trees
He couldn’t stop staring at her with a gaping mouth. She shared similar characteristics that he had, being the children of Lagertha they were bound to have resemblances. He looked far more like her as a child than a growing adult, however. But still, his blue eyes stayed trained on her petite frame.
A jungle princess.
As he is the jungle prince.
Finally someone from the Dale rose to the occasion. Ea, she introduced herself as. He watches her with a spark of intensity, eyeing her movement. He feels foolish now, wanting to approach. She wouldn’t know him, wouldn’t know him to be a Dale dweller. He isn’t. He will be, should be… Perhaps after this meeting that can be arranged. However until then, a third stranger reeking of their kingdom might be a little more odd than the three females with a male in tow visiting.
And finally, HE arrives. The king, the representative, the leader. Dalten watches him with respect, as he floats to the scene and handles it like a breeze. The introverted colt had far too much to learn.
Perhaps his joining of the Dale can commence at similar times as meeting his mother.
How convenient.
It doesn’t end though, more and more faces keep arriving and Dalten feels his anxiety begin to peak.
Lord, have mercy on me.
And so he approaches.
He curls to himself, finding a gaping spot between some Dale folk, and settles himself nicely within his comfort zone. He cocks his right hind, eyeing the peculiar child from the corner of his eye, inhaling the sweet memorable scent of home, and then finally focuses his attention on her.
Mother.
“Hello, mom” he says with a deep masculine tone that surely wasn’t there when he left the jungle so long ago. He feels sheepish, childish approaching her like this. But yet, he does.