NIGHT WILL FALL AND DROWN THE SUN
WHEN A GOOD MAN GOES TO WAR
He, too, misses the familiarity of the Jungle. When Beqanna tore its foundations apart to rebuild a new landscape, it had taken with it the birthing-thicket of ten of his children, the rivers he and Scorch would tousle in, and thousands of other memories winding between the thick foliage of their home. Nerine is oddly quiet compared to the wilderness of the Jungle (while there’s the rush of the wind and waves with the screeching of seagulls in Nerine, the Jungle provided jaguar-cries and bird-twitters and urgent waterfalls to fill the silence).
Her voice pierces through the cry of the gull pinwheeling above them, warming his heart. Her touch soothes his weary soul even further, providing a comfort to his heart that he had nearly forgotten. The love of his family had been his only peace during his time in the Afterlife (when the world was gray and hazy and unforgiving, the memories and reminders of his children and grandchildren and even great-grandchildren brought color to his days) and to finally kiss their heads in person brings him joy.
She nestles into him as gently as a kitten to a warm sun-spot. He sighs quietly, turning his face to kiss just behind her ear. “My sweet Vi,” he hums. One of his greatest sorrows in life is being unable to witness his blue-roaned daughter grow into the beautiful woman she is today. He’s fully prepared to walk with her through her life now, if she wants him there. The russet stallion craves to be an anchor for them to secure themselves upon, a lighthouse to guide them, a rock to build upon, a pillow to rest upon.
“There is no need to apologize, but I am grateful for it.” He touches another tender kiss to her face, this time against the smooth plane of her cheek. “I’m sorry for not being there for you, as you grew up.”
Hestoni
@[Vi]