11-05-2019, 01:09 AM
Fatherhood still felt natural to him, more instinctual in a way Bane could appreciate. The feeling of being Celina’s father hadn’t been trumped by the new clouds gathering over his heart, and giving her a wide, playful smile came naturally the moment she gave him chase and burst from her hiding spot. He still looked at her adoringly, crinkling the blue edges around hooded eyes and a soft mouth with unspoken affection that could weather all seasons or changes. He could still appreciate the strength bred into her, distinguishably Lepis but also marked as his.
Their daughter was bold and beautiful in her own unique way, and he can tell by the condition of her gleaming coat and fledgling wings just how much care and attention his wife had given to their brood. The happiness in Celina’s eyes - the expectancy of gifts - remind him of what he and Lepis had built together over the years. Not an empire of kingdoms or horseflesh, but a legacy of children who were happy and content in their own world.
The thought that Celina’s happiness could be shattered by marital strife (and that it would be his fault) nearly broke his smile in half.
“I couldn’t see you at all! Very good hiding, Celina.” He gave her due praise first and foremost, curling the proud arc of his strong neck over hers in a protective, aimable hug when she came close and nuzzled at his chest. “They,” He emphasized the idea of more than just one present, “were something I made for your mane or tail. Sea glass baubles—” He told her, unaware that he’d be disappointing her high expectations by not producing a live polar bear cub.
Luckily, the disappointment would go unnoticed as he turned to bury his handsomely-crafted nose under the crook of his left wing. Hidden beneath the pale feathers was a self-shifted marsupial pouch, containing icy blue and crystalline white flat beads that he withdrew one at a time to place gingerly on the dead stump of the felled tree she’d been using as cover. Each bead was no larger than his own eye, and each contained a hole whittled clean in the middle.
“I thought a growing filly like yourself could use some distinction.” He told her warmly, looking down at Celina with an expression that belied her already distinct and wonderful nature, regardless of glass beads. “If you like them, I can thread them with strands of your hair for decoration.” He explained, “No other island in Beqanna has sea stones this color. When I saw them, I was reminded of you.”
He reached for her again, longing to stroke the lines of her cheek and forehead where Lepis’ cobweb markings hid among white fur. Beautiful, bold Celina. His little girl wouldn’t be very little for much longer. “Did I do good? Or should I go back and try again?”
@[Celina]
Their daughter was bold and beautiful in her own unique way, and he can tell by the condition of her gleaming coat and fledgling wings just how much care and attention his wife had given to their brood. The happiness in Celina’s eyes - the expectancy of gifts - remind him of what he and Lepis had built together over the years. Not an empire of kingdoms or horseflesh, but a legacy of children who were happy and content in their own world.
The thought that Celina’s happiness could be shattered by marital strife (and that it would be his fault) nearly broke his smile in half.
“I couldn’t see you at all! Very good hiding, Celina.” He gave her due praise first and foremost, curling the proud arc of his strong neck over hers in a protective, aimable hug when she came close and nuzzled at his chest. “They,” He emphasized the idea of more than just one present, “were something I made for your mane or tail. Sea glass baubles—” He told her, unaware that he’d be disappointing her high expectations by not producing a live polar bear cub.
Luckily, the disappointment would go unnoticed as he turned to bury his handsomely-crafted nose under the crook of his left wing. Hidden beneath the pale feathers was a self-shifted marsupial pouch, containing icy blue and crystalline white flat beads that he withdrew one at a time to place gingerly on the dead stump of the felled tree she’d been using as cover. Each bead was no larger than his own eye, and each contained a hole whittled clean in the middle.
“I thought a growing filly like yourself could use some distinction.” He told her warmly, looking down at Celina with an expression that belied her already distinct and wonderful nature, regardless of glass beads. “If you like them, I can thread them with strands of your hair for decoration.” He explained, “No other island in Beqanna has sea stones this color. When I saw them, I was reminded of you.”
He reached for her again, longing to stroke the lines of her cheek and forehead where Lepis’ cobweb markings hid among white fur. Beautiful, bold Celina. His little girl wouldn’t be very little for much longer. “Did I do good? Or should I go back and try again?”
@[Celina]
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