The winds change, again, and winter is upon them.
The seasons pass too quickly, as they always have. Ramiel feels as if just yesterday he had been kissing the top of his second child’s newborn head. But spring has long since passed. Kha is now a gangly boy well on his way to his first birthday. It is still impossible to believe that he’s been a father twice over (soon to be thrice over, possibly more), but the fact remains that his family is ever-growing. It has always been a rather large, amorphous one, anyway. His parents are no strangers to expanding their broods with and without each other. But as important as family is to all of them, Tiphon and Talulah have a certain knack for scattering their offspring to the same winds that now blow snow down the mountainside.
First, it had been Joscelin. His beloved sister had fled home the first chance she could for better opportunities in the Jungle. Despite his desire to keep her in the Dale, at his side in a high-ranking title merited by blood alone, the cracked-skin girl had other plans. She wanted to prove herself elsewhere, and he will always admire her more for it. Tiberios had tucked himself away long before Joscelin had left. He had resented his brother for abandoning them at their lowest point (as the Dalean hills had been leeched of every trace of Tiphon’s golden light; the angel had taken flight and not touched down for years). But once they had come to understand each other better, they had unified under the strength of their familial ties – just in time for the sabino to be murdered in cold blood. Ramiel’s other siblings were similarly scattered: the enchanting Isilya, the fiery twins Terran and Titanya, the elusive Dalten.
It is the same case with his only full sibling, Elaria.
The ghost-king had been there just after her birth, as the morning sun glinted off the child’s coat and set her alight with gold. It had almost been enough to conceal the horror of her body. It had almost been enough to hide the poking bones and peeling, rotting skin that had just been slipped brand-new into the world. He hadn’t been as disturbed as his parents, seeing his little sister like that. Ramiel had seen more monsters and aliens and blood and gore than the both of them combined. He had witnessed a whole man reduced to a skeleton with only bits of flesh to cover him. He had seen the souls trapped on the Other Side, had been nearly eaten by a great mollusk at the end of the universe. He did not share the fear and disgust that Tiphon and Talulah had in meeting their daughter for the first time. He loved Elaria, anyway.
But she had left between the changing of one season to the next.
He sees her now, through the curtain of white that tries to hide her (as it seems the world is intent on doing, keeping the unfinished sectioned away from the finished). The flash of gold is unmistakable, though, and he hurries to her side. “Elaria,” he names her, though he hardly recognizes the almost-adult she has become. A quiet smile curves his lips. He is soft, hesitant; she is like a deer that might bolt from his well-meaning attention and he doesn’t want to lose her again. The same lines crease their features, even if their bodies are so vastly different. It is easy to see the relation, to see the smooth edges of their metal mother in the angles of their shoulders and their father’s bright curiosity of the world in their light eyes. Ramiel nearly forgets that he doesn’t know the girl, not really. He has no idea how she’s changed in her time away from home. She had been stark after her birth, quick and inquisitive of everything around her. They had been so similar as children, Talulah had told him, but he had seen the way her gaze had dropped just after.
He makes it a point to hold her eyes.
“Welcome home, sister. I’ve missed you, the grey says, placing a gentle touch of his muzzle on her rotting cheek before withdrawing. The Dale seems to agree with his sentiment. The snow slows, enough that the mountains become visible once more behind them. He wonders if she will stay but doesn’t ask. For now, it is enough that she’s here. The stallion glances to the relative protection of a group of evergreens close by (the same ones he had been sheltered under before spotting her approach). “Care to get out of this weather? I am certain we have a lot to catch up on.” He starts to turn, looking behind him to see if she is following. “You have a niece and a nephew to meet as well. No point in freezing while we wait for them to find us.”
The seasons pass too quickly, as they always have. Ramiel feels as if just yesterday he had been kissing the top of his second child’s newborn head. But spring has long since passed. Kha is now a gangly boy well on his way to his first birthday. It is still impossible to believe that he’s been a father twice over (soon to be thrice over, possibly more), but the fact remains that his family is ever-growing. It has always been a rather large, amorphous one, anyway. His parents are no strangers to expanding their broods with and without each other. But as important as family is to all of them, Tiphon and Talulah have a certain knack for scattering their offspring to the same winds that now blow snow down the mountainside.
First, it had been Joscelin. His beloved sister had fled home the first chance she could for better opportunities in the Jungle. Despite his desire to keep her in the Dale, at his side in a high-ranking title merited by blood alone, the cracked-skin girl had other plans. She wanted to prove herself elsewhere, and he will always admire her more for it. Tiberios had tucked himself away long before Joscelin had left. He had resented his brother for abandoning them at their lowest point (as the Dalean hills had been leeched of every trace of Tiphon’s golden light; the angel had taken flight and not touched down for years). But once they had come to understand each other better, they had unified under the strength of their familial ties – just in time for the sabino to be murdered in cold blood. Ramiel’s other siblings were similarly scattered: the enchanting Isilya, the fiery twins Terran and Titanya, the elusive Dalten.
It is the same case with his only full sibling, Elaria.
The ghost-king had been there just after her birth, as the morning sun glinted off the child’s coat and set her alight with gold. It had almost been enough to conceal the horror of her body. It had almost been enough to hide the poking bones and peeling, rotting skin that had just been slipped brand-new into the world. He hadn’t been as disturbed as his parents, seeing his little sister like that. Ramiel had seen more monsters and aliens and blood and gore than the both of them combined. He had witnessed a whole man reduced to a skeleton with only bits of flesh to cover him. He had seen the souls trapped on the Other Side, had been nearly eaten by a great mollusk at the end of the universe. He did not share the fear and disgust that Tiphon and Talulah had in meeting their daughter for the first time. He loved Elaria, anyway.
But she had left between the changing of one season to the next.
He sees her now, through the curtain of white that tries to hide her (as it seems the world is intent on doing, keeping the unfinished sectioned away from the finished). The flash of gold is unmistakable, though, and he hurries to her side. “Elaria,” he names her, though he hardly recognizes the almost-adult she has become. A quiet smile curves his lips. He is soft, hesitant; she is like a deer that might bolt from his well-meaning attention and he doesn’t want to lose her again. The same lines crease their features, even if their bodies are so vastly different. It is easy to see the relation, to see the smooth edges of their metal mother in the angles of their shoulders and their father’s bright curiosity of the world in their light eyes. Ramiel nearly forgets that he doesn’t know the girl, not really. He has no idea how she’s changed in her time away from home. She had been stark after her birth, quick and inquisitive of everything around her. They had been so similar as children, Talulah had told him, but he had seen the way her gaze had dropped just after.
He makes it a point to hold her eyes.
“Welcome home, sister. I’ve missed you, the grey says, placing a gentle touch of his muzzle on her rotting cheek before withdrawing. The Dale seems to agree with his sentiment. The snow slows, enough that the mountains become visible once more behind them. He wonders if she will stay but doesn’t ask. For now, it is enough that she’s here. The stallion glances to the relative protection of a group of evergreens close by (the same ones he had been sheltered under before spotting her approach). “Care to get out of this weather? I am certain we have a lot to catch up on.” He starts to turn, looking behind him to see if she is following. “You have a niece and a nephew to meet as well. No point in freezing while we wait for them to find us.”
R A M I E L
this is a man pulling at his iron chains