05-24-2018, 06:52 PM
Belgaer
Freedom is a rare and glorious gift. Soaring high above the land, Belgaer imagines that such a luxury existed to him. Not that his home resembled anything close to a prison. He was grateful for the position of trust he’d been granted when he father had taken the throne, but the weight had been heavy upon his shoulders.
His wings flapped with rhythmic succession as he closed his eyes against the gloriously comforting touch of the wind as it brushed along the length of him. The sea that surrounded his island home was far behind him and, having just left Tephra, a quick visit to the luscious Meadow was a welcome respite. Spotting the massive expanse of wildflowers and clover he lands deftly among them, his nose instantly greeted by the sweet smell of spring grass.
He lowered his muzzle to the ground and took a giant mouthful, relishing in the taste of it. Though there are others around him, he is glad to have a moment to himself. Lately it had been a rare thing. Folding his wings upon his back he walks through the tall grass, relishing in its tickling touches as the sprigs brushed along the soft of his skin. It was easy to believe that the world was at peace in that moment. Though many eyes watched him it was doubtful that he would be recognized as a son of Ischia’s king. Even so, Brennen had many and he was of no greater significance of any of his other siblings.
There were times, however, that he imagined the pride he would feel to be chosen as his father’s heir. Both immortal, he would be proud to stand beside his father through the ever-changing world that they would be forced to endure.
Approaching a cluster of trees his eyes momentarily fall upon the lithe figure of a black mare. He smiles politely in her direction before stealing some shade for his own. A modest distance from her, he lowers his head to graze.
His wings flapped with rhythmic succession as he closed his eyes against the gloriously comforting touch of the wind as it brushed along the length of him. The sea that surrounded his island home was far behind him and, having just left Tephra, a quick visit to the luscious Meadow was a welcome respite. Spotting the massive expanse of wildflowers and clover he lands deftly among them, his nose instantly greeted by the sweet smell of spring grass.
He lowered his muzzle to the ground and took a giant mouthful, relishing in the taste of it. Though there are others around him, he is glad to have a moment to himself. Lately it had been a rare thing. Folding his wings upon his back he walks through the tall grass, relishing in its tickling touches as the sprigs brushed along the soft of his skin. It was easy to believe that the world was at peace in that moment. Though many eyes watched him it was doubtful that he would be recognized as a son of Ischia’s king. Even so, Brennen had many and he was of no greater significance of any of his other siblings.
There were times, however, that he imagined the pride he would feel to be chosen as his father’s heir. Both immortal, he would be proud to stand beside his father through the ever-changing world that they would be forced to endure.
Approaching a cluster of trees his eyes momentarily fall upon the lithe figure of a black mare. He smiles politely in her direction before stealing some shade for his own. A modest distance from her, he lowers his head to graze.
The Prodigal Son
@[wound]