11-13-2019, 04:26 PM
OPHANIM
He gives only a slight nod when the stranger says that Castile won’t mind and Ophanim hopes he’s right. The Loessian king has had a few unwanted visitors this year already. He chews the inside of this lip before brushing the thought from his mind and focusing instead on the answer to his curious question. Although he cannot recall ever accidentally wandering into strange lands, he does often find himself meandering between Sylva and this kingdom when he can’t seem to sit still. As he’s grown older, though, he’s taken a liking to gliding on warm air currents rather than walking.
“Oh, I could never leave them. I tried to once and I missed them the moment I was gone,” he says, his words ending in light-hearted laughter despite the grim memories of his departure. The angel boy had spent only a brief period of time apart from his children and his wife before they came searching for him. Even his most troublesome offspring are too precious to his heart for him to think of leaving again. He would miss the way Ciara horrifies him by catching field mice by their tails and eating them whole, or the way Meraxes and Malone fake their deaths for Starsin. His brood is full of mischievous sons and daughters but they are his, at the end of the day.
“So where are you from? Not anywhere in the south, I imagine,” he wonders with that faint grin still easing its way across his face. Ophanim has seen the stranger in passing, recently, but he doesn’t seem to linger enough to live in this region. Or maybe he’s entirely wrong and the other simply prefers to make himself scarce. There are days when the golden boy would much rather reserve his time for Lilt, his youngest, instead of bothering himself with socializing. “I settled here once the plague started up. Starsin, my very beautiful wife, was asked to be the advisor here. She’s very clever so it’s the perfect job for her.”
And he doesn’t mean to brag, but his love for her spills over into many of the things he does. He doesn’t consider that others may not be so fortunate as him.
“Oh, I could never leave them. I tried to once and I missed them the moment I was gone,” he says, his words ending in light-hearted laughter despite the grim memories of his departure. The angel boy had spent only a brief period of time apart from his children and his wife before they came searching for him. Even his most troublesome offspring are too precious to his heart for him to think of leaving again. He would miss the way Ciara horrifies him by catching field mice by their tails and eating them whole, or the way Meraxes and Malone fake their deaths for Starsin. His brood is full of mischievous sons and daughters but they are his, at the end of the day.
“So where are you from? Not anywhere in the south, I imagine,” he wonders with that faint grin still easing its way across his face. Ophanim has seen the stranger in passing, recently, but he doesn’t seem to linger enough to live in this region. Or maybe he’s entirely wrong and the other simply prefers to make himself scarce. There are days when the golden boy would much rather reserve his time for Lilt, his youngest, instead of bothering himself with socializing. “I settled here once the plague started up. Starsin, my very beautiful wife, was asked to be the advisor here. She’s very clever so it’s the perfect job for her.”
And he doesn’t mean to brag, but his love for her spills over into many of the things he does. He doesn’t consider that others may not be so fortunate as him.
you could drown in those eyes, i said.