06-18-2018, 07:02 PM
Belgaer
The day had taken an unexpected turn. Belgaer’s journey home had been interrupted, a reoccurring pattern of late. However, he hadn’t expected to stumble upon the battered figure of his nephew. Quickly drawing close to Jesper’s side he skidded to a halt, gently stretching his nose out to offer a comforting touch. The stench of Sylva was heavy upon him. It was impossible for the chestnut to forget the first time he’d encountered his estranged family member. Although both stallions sported the matching bronze gift given to them by the goddess, Nike, they had participated on opposing teams during her games. He had gifted his silver to his sister and had taken her third-place prize for himself.
That day felt decades in the past now.
The sound of another approaching figure stole away Belgaer’s attention and, just as he had found the words he’d wanted to offer by means of comfort, they were stolen away once more. Not far in the distance a roan stallion paused. His eyes took a moment to digest the scene he had stumbled upon, perhaps attempting to decide if there was a threat or a need to be threatened. Like them, however, he too bore the symbol of Nike, this time golden. For a moment, Bel’s body tensed, instinctively protective of his wounded brother in arms. Prepared to defend Jesper, a warming breeze halts him as it carried with it the salty scent of Ischia. They were all, it seemed, headed in the same direction. Relieved that Sylva hadn’t sent one of theirs to retrieve their Ischian prize, Belgaer felt himself slowly beginning to relax.
Breaking free from his stillness, the roan stallion moved forward and wasted no time in offering his comfort to Jesper. Remaining upright, Belgaer kept a weary eye trained on the tree line, his ears swiveling in every direction, ready to pick up the first sounds of danger. When a figure does emerge from the forest it’s shape and silhouette are instantly known to the winged diplomat. Brennen had arrived. Relieved, Belgaer called out towards his father, beckoning to him.
Silence envelopes them as the Ischian king draws near, his eyes drinking in the marks drawn upon his grandson’s body. Behind his honey eyes, rage boils there and Belgaer senses all that is to come. Just and abundantly good, Brennen would not allow the actions of Sylva to go unpunished. It grieved them all to see their Brother in such a deplorable state. Anger rose up inside of Belgaer, but there is no time for any to speak before another voice breaks through their state of unease. Feminine and full of emotion she is clearly distraught as she gazed upon Jesper. Cracked words heavy with emotion soften the winged stallion and he moves to offer her his comfort. Gently, he draped the length of his wing over top her back, pulling her close in a stilling embrace.
Everything is going to be alright. He whispered in her ear, but only loud enough for her ears. His was the touch of a friend – no, of family.
At Brennen’s encouragement, Jesper rose from his grassy bed, a brave smile upon his lips. Listless and slightly unsteady, his words are heavy with gratitude. There is something else, though, hiding behind his gaze and Belgaer’s frown deepened at the sight of it. It should not have surprised any of them to hear that a few of their own had abandoned their beloved island to serve the dark intentions of Sylva. However, that didn’t lessen the sting of their betrayal. A shock of lightning coursed through Belgaer as his little sister’s name is paired alongside Drax’s. He wanted to ask for more information but is quickly reminded of the instability of their reunion beside the river. Ischia would be a much safer place for such discussions.
Brennen does not stop there, however. Turning to face his son it is immediately apparent that he would not be joining them on the journey home. His task was urgent and he lowered himself in a bow to mark his acceptance of it.
Consider it done.
Without a moment to spare, he peeled himself away from the white framed mare and, with a parting smile, he launched himself into the air.
That day felt decades in the past now.
The sound of another approaching figure stole away Belgaer’s attention and, just as he had found the words he’d wanted to offer by means of comfort, they were stolen away once more. Not far in the distance a roan stallion paused. His eyes took a moment to digest the scene he had stumbled upon, perhaps attempting to decide if there was a threat or a need to be threatened. Like them, however, he too bore the symbol of Nike, this time golden. For a moment, Bel’s body tensed, instinctively protective of his wounded brother in arms. Prepared to defend Jesper, a warming breeze halts him as it carried with it the salty scent of Ischia. They were all, it seemed, headed in the same direction. Relieved that Sylva hadn’t sent one of theirs to retrieve their Ischian prize, Belgaer felt himself slowly beginning to relax.
Breaking free from his stillness, the roan stallion moved forward and wasted no time in offering his comfort to Jesper. Remaining upright, Belgaer kept a weary eye trained on the tree line, his ears swiveling in every direction, ready to pick up the first sounds of danger. When a figure does emerge from the forest it’s shape and silhouette are instantly known to the winged diplomat. Brennen had arrived. Relieved, Belgaer called out towards his father, beckoning to him.
Silence envelopes them as the Ischian king draws near, his eyes drinking in the marks drawn upon his grandson’s body. Behind his honey eyes, rage boils there and Belgaer senses all that is to come. Just and abundantly good, Brennen would not allow the actions of Sylva to go unpunished. It grieved them all to see their Brother in such a deplorable state. Anger rose up inside of Belgaer, but there is no time for any to speak before another voice breaks through their state of unease. Feminine and full of emotion she is clearly distraught as she gazed upon Jesper. Cracked words heavy with emotion soften the winged stallion and he moves to offer her his comfort. Gently, he draped the length of his wing over top her back, pulling her close in a stilling embrace.
Everything is going to be alright. He whispered in her ear, but only loud enough for her ears. His was the touch of a friend – no, of family.
At Brennen’s encouragement, Jesper rose from his grassy bed, a brave smile upon his lips. Listless and slightly unsteady, his words are heavy with gratitude. There is something else, though, hiding behind his gaze and Belgaer’s frown deepened at the sight of it. It should not have surprised any of them to hear that a few of their own had abandoned their beloved island to serve the dark intentions of Sylva. However, that didn’t lessen the sting of their betrayal. A shock of lightning coursed through Belgaer as his little sister’s name is paired alongside Drax’s. He wanted to ask for more information but is quickly reminded of the instability of their reunion beside the river. Ischia would be a much safer place for such discussions.
Brennen does not stop there, however. Turning to face his son it is immediately apparent that he would not be joining them on the journey home. His task was urgent and he lowered himself in a bow to mark his acceptance of it.
Consider it done.
Without a moment to spare, he peeled himself away from the white framed mare and, with a parting smile, he launched himself into the air.
The Prodigal Son
@[Leilan] | @[Brennen] | @[Lavendel] | @[Jesper]
Belgaer is out! lol!