05-19-2015, 12:17 PM
Maybe, in his age, he's easily distracted. Maybe, in his age, he's losing hearing. Maybe a lot of things, but he never noticed Thorunn plod happily behind him. She is loud and easily seen, but he's on a mission. To see Myrina. At first he'd write it off as pure lust, but it's more than that. There's an ache in Covet's heart he's felt since first meeting Sage, and then losing her. The knowledge that you can feel love, and be loved, or adored or whatever else goes on between the two of them. There's something so quietly wonderful in that knowledge. He'd spent his childhood abandoned in the Adoption Den, he never felt himself capable of anything more than disgust.
Or fear.
But here she is, wrapped around him in ways Sage never did, brushing against the thorny edges and not getting pricked. They are matched, then, because they've abandoned and been abandoned and still they're here together.
He approaches his child slowly, extending a muzzle of hello. Here, he thought he'd leave this world with no capable heirs. This orange eyed child shares his cynical, stoic look as well as his orange eyes. Then she speaks of the silent watcher and his eyes turn to the brush.
---
Thorunn jumps back into the brush at the mention of her name, nearly falling in the process. She's all limbs and legs and spindly nothing - she's on her ass before she knows of it. But at the eye contact with her father she reluctantly leaves the brush to approach the group.
She shares the other fillies orange eyes, though hers are hard and blank. She is chestnut, the spitting image of her mother, but everything about her posture and mannerisms scream her father. She stands awkwardly to the side, blinking at the group.
---
"This is Thorunn," he offers, when the girl doesn't speak. "She's your sister."
Or fear.
But here she is, wrapped around him in ways Sage never did, brushing against the thorny edges and not getting pricked. They are matched, then, because they've abandoned and been abandoned and still they're here together.
He approaches his child slowly, extending a muzzle of hello. Here, he thought he'd leave this world with no capable heirs. This orange eyed child shares his cynical, stoic look as well as his orange eyes. Then she speaks of the silent watcher and his eyes turn to the brush.
---
Thorunn jumps back into the brush at the mention of her name, nearly falling in the process. She's all limbs and legs and spindly nothing - she's on her ass before she knows of it. But at the eye contact with her father she reluctantly leaves the brush to approach the group.
She shares the other fillies orange eyes, though hers are hard and blank. She is chestnut, the spitting image of her mother, but everything about her posture and mannerisms scream her father. She stands awkwardly to the side, blinking at the group.
---
"This is Thorunn," he offers, when the girl doesn't speak. "She's your sister."