04-27-2015, 02:29 PM
A late autumn hawk circles overhead, climbing weak thermals ever-higher into the sky. It catches the mare’s attention, but she sighs as soon as she sees what it is.
Or rather, who it is not.
It’s not the arcing white and gold flight of their king. It’s not a rare smile that the creature wears, but a curved, deadly beak. It’s not a father who hasn’t yet met his son; it’s not Tiphon returning to them from up high.
Talulah turns away, surprised at the level of scorn she feels towards the heedless hawk. As if it is his mistake for monopolizing airspace already reserved. Ramiel follows her gaze as he’s grown accustomed to doing. He knows exactly what his dam is looking for – spends his own fair share of time doing the same, in fact – but he’s also used to the disappointment. He’s grown up in a constant state of waiting. Waiting for his overbearing mother to loosen her tight hold on him. Waiting for a less monotonous day. Waiting for Joscelin to be able to play. Waiting for a father that he’d never met.
Fortunately, in all this waiting, Ramiel has become a patient boy. So he doesn’t fall apart a little more every day like his mother. He stands taller, more sure of his role as a protector for those who need it. He becomes certain that Talulah now needs him more than he needs her. As he pulls the metal-mare away from her hill-top spot, he offers to accompany her to the river. If nothing else, it will be a good distraction for her. Besides, she’s always had a special fondness for the river.
As the almost-yearling and mare walk towards the kingdom center, they further assuage their worries by making pointless observations (as they were fond of doing, passing one tree that looked like it had a face, and a mean one at that. They had previously dubbed it the Carnage-tree). Their spirits soon lift, and by the time they see a faint glow in the distance, they are both wearing bright smiles. Talulah recognizes the glow for what it is immediately, and she takes off at a swift canter, her skin seemingly shining in response. She barely manages to stop before colliding into the stallion, but she closes the distance anyway, pulling him into a firm embrace. He’s warm and real and smells like she remembers, but his long absence makes her hold a quick one. There are a million questions swimming in her eyes and forming on her tongue, and before she can give life to any of them, Ramiel is there behind her. She looks between them, her emotions a well that she cannot begin to delve into at the moment. Instead, she focuses on her son, their son (who watches his parents’ exchange with reserved delight) and introduces him. “This is Ramiel. He’s waited a long time to meet you.” Too long, she wants to add. Where have you been, she also wonders, silently.
Or rather, who it is not.
It’s not the arcing white and gold flight of their king. It’s not a rare smile that the creature wears, but a curved, deadly beak. It’s not a father who hasn’t yet met his son; it’s not Tiphon returning to them from up high.
Talulah turns away, surprised at the level of scorn she feels towards the heedless hawk. As if it is his mistake for monopolizing airspace already reserved. Ramiel follows her gaze as he’s grown accustomed to doing. He knows exactly what his dam is looking for – spends his own fair share of time doing the same, in fact – but he’s also used to the disappointment. He’s grown up in a constant state of waiting. Waiting for his overbearing mother to loosen her tight hold on him. Waiting for a less monotonous day. Waiting for Joscelin to be able to play. Waiting for a father that he’d never met.
Fortunately, in all this waiting, Ramiel has become a patient boy. So he doesn’t fall apart a little more every day like his mother. He stands taller, more sure of his role as a protector for those who need it. He becomes certain that Talulah now needs him more than he needs her. As he pulls the metal-mare away from her hill-top spot, he offers to accompany her to the river. If nothing else, it will be a good distraction for her. Besides, she’s always had a special fondness for the river.
As the almost-yearling and mare walk towards the kingdom center, they further assuage their worries by making pointless observations (as they were fond of doing, passing one tree that looked like it had a face, and a mean one at that. They had previously dubbed it the Carnage-tree). Their spirits soon lift, and by the time they see a faint glow in the distance, they are both wearing bright smiles. Talulah recognizes the glow for what it is immediately, and she takes off at a swift canter, her skin seemingly shining in response. She barely manages to stop before colliding into the stallion, but she closes the distance anyway, pulling him into a firm embrace. He’s warm and real and smells like she remembers, but his long absence makes her hold a quick one. There are a million questions swimming in her eyes and forming on her tongue, and before she can give life to any of them, Ramiel is there behind her. She looks between them, her emotions a well that she cannot begin to delve into at the moment. Instead, she focuses on her son, their son (who watches his parents’ exchange with reserved delight) and introduces him. “This is Ramiel. He’s waited a long time to meet you.” Too long, she wants to add. Where have you been, she also wonders, silently.