02-09-2016, 08:40 PM
Ooc - Lets try this with no html.
The great draft was lying on his wide black belly in the moist coolness of palm sand, heavy face grating against the ribbed bark of the nearby palm tree. Great wings outstretching like membranous, skeletal fronds caught in a sweet breeze – ah, the simple pleasure of a scratch. So simple a pleasure. One, like many, he had been denied for so many years while his bones bleached white and he was counted as one of the dead and forever gone.
There were no gilded gates for him in death, no silvered paths lined with long-ago loved faces to welcome him into the Afterlife so many had spoken of, some with doubt and some with faith. But in the same, there were no fires to scorch his soul forevermore or lakes of horses half-fleshed and devil-touched. There was just the nothingness of reflecting on ruined promises and dying hopes and it was all just…numb. All numbness.
So his grin grows extra wide as the Chamber princess’ scent filters through the spicy, dry scents of his magic sands. It had been a great while since the champagne girl had slipped through the Deserts, he had even heard she had participated in the gods’ throne competition – perhaps she would have been the better choice after all. But those are choices too-long ago chosen to mull over today when her corporeal soul has come home.
The Percheron is rising on feathered feet, shaking loose the dampened sand with a dragon’s snort. “Fancy seeing you here Lu,” he the voice comes and the king furls his wings carefully and quietly at his sides. And even although he does not smell his son, he ears flick forward at the sound and he knows his silvered boy’s voice.
When the gods had seen fit to allow his golden queen to bring him home he had been eager, ravenously so even to see his children – to mend back whatever frays he could. At his bequeath, the magician queen had sent out a message to all of his bloodline. Vanquish knew his dragon-borne son had heard his call - but had just chosen never to come. The king had done his best to hide the thick heaviness of disappointment that hung about his lofty shoulders, but sometimes the great titan struggled with its weight. Tarnished, Kratos, Caius – they had all been absent of his side when he came calling and it both wounded and riled his heart.
Vanquish shoulders his way past a few fronds to the edge of the oasis where the two stood, head high and eyes smiling at the girl, now quite obviously a woman, “Lucrezia, it is good to see you back,” he says, black nose extending in his customary way, “will you be staying?” The king does not mean to pry; he merely extends the question as a courtesy – it would be good to see her within their ranks once again.
He lets his gaze linger on the pea-fowl marked mare before dragging heavily over to his sons, one ear flicked back and the other tilted in his direction, “just passing through, I presume?” He asks his son, voice taunt and gaze hard with a stoic melancholy.
The great draft was lying on his wide black belly in the moist coolness of palm sand, heavy face grating against the ribbed bark of the nearby palm tree. Great wings outstretching like membranous, skeletal fronds caught in a sweet breeze – ah, the simple pleasure of a scratch. So simple a pleasure. One, like many, he had been denied for so many years while his bones bleached white and he was counted as one of the dead and forever gone.
There were no gilded gates for him in death, no silvered paths lined with long-ago loved faces to welcome him into the Afterlife so many had spoken of, some with doubt and some with faith. But in the same, there were no fires to scorch his soul forevermore or lakes of horses half-fleshed and devil-touched. There was just the nothingness of reflecting on ruined promises and dying hopes and it was all just…numb. All numbness.
So his grin grows extra wide as the Chamber princess’ scent filters through the spicy, dry scents of his magic sands. It had been a great while since the champagne girl had slipped through the Deserts, he had even heard she had participated in the gods’ throne competition – perhaps she would have been the better choice after all. But those are choices too-long ago chosen to mull over today when her corporeal soul has come home.
The Percheron is rising on feathered feet, shaking loose the dampened sand with a dragon’s snort. “Fancy seeing you here Lu,” he the voice comes and the king furls his wings carefully and quietly at his sides. And even although he does not smell his son, he ears flick forward at the sound and he knows his silvered boy’s voice.
When the gods had seen fit to allow his golden queen to bring him home he had been eager, ravenously so even to see his children – to mend back whatever frays he could. At his bequeath, the magician queen had sent out a message to all of his bloodline. Vanquish knew his dragon-borne son had heard his call - but had just chosen never to come. The king had done his best to hide the thick heaviness of disappointment that hung about his lofty shoulders, but sometimes the great titan struggled with its weight. Tarnished, Kratos, Caius – they had all been absent of his side when he came calling and it both wounded and riled his heart.
Vanquish shoulders his way past a few fronds to the edge of the oasis where the two stood, head high and eyes smiling at the girl, now quite obviously a woman, “Lucrezia, it is good to see you back,” he says, black nose extending in his customary way, “will you be staying?” The king does not mean to pry; he merely extends the question as a courtesy – it would be good to see her within their ranks once again.
He lets his gaze linger on the pea-fowl marked mare before dragging heavily over to his sons, one ear flicked back and the other tilted in his direction, “just passing through, I presume?” He asks his son, voice taunt and gaze hard with a stoic melancholy.