11-18-2018, 09:21 PM
In them, there is sense of strange air- a touch of heaviness so palpable that Tithe finds himself choking and having trouble breathing. Tindalos says little, only seeks to ease the pain of the moment; but it’s a bizarre notion of time that resonates and he turns away: sets to where the Cover is at its most bizarre… to the place where the world is split between a dream and the void.
He is there before the birth, waiting a bit away as to make sure the much larger mare is comfortable: pacing and walking, idly minding brush and rock as he converses with Tithe and dutifully waits- patient and eager: nervous. Those world is dark, yet, he feels little fear or issue and even the cold is bearable when he feels the body of his lover pressing against himself.
It is not by any means a thing they maintain long, no, instead they only do so until there is a sudden movement in the corner of the eye, a shadow that seems impossible bright and brilliant- that brings with it the scent of earth and spice, of herbs and faraway. Drawn to the curiosity of this moment they walk and slither: wind together and approach the scene with slow steps and weary hearts.
He screams, they feel terror and worry: Tindalos moving forward suddenly and inspecting the area with all the paternal eagerness and willingness to fight he musters; but Tithe is still there when Kagerus appears through the dream and he scoffs immediately and with all the attention bid to her.
It is not malice, but, it is something dark: perhaps blame or perhaps some irritation.
Tindalos, too, steadies himself and he places himself very suddenly between Kagerus and the child, and Mordgeld.
Silence is their preference for the moment, listening in with patience- until of course Tithe, some feet to the side of Kagerus huffs. He is effeminate in tone, almost soft and maternal; but with a lingering accent that formerly belonged to the residents of the Taiga.
“Sanctuary, ah- you are with the lot that came from Hyaline- slightly south west… near Pangea. Dangerous territory.” observational commentary but enough to force Tindalos to glance back with concern at Mordgeld and Nyctelios.
He speaks with the proverbial rumble and gruffness of any unamused father, ears leaning forward and notable widened in stance- postured in a way that for the moment he seems taller. “You’ve come at quite the time Kagerus. For all of us.” simplistic enough he maintains a regional accent of the old Pangean sound.
@[Kagerus] @[Mordgeld]
He is there before the birth, waiting a bit away as to make sure the much larger mare is comfortable: pacing and walking, idly minding brush and rock as he converses with Tithe and dutifully waits- patient and eager: nervous. Those world is dark, yet, he feels little fear or issue and even the cold is bearable when he feels the body of his lover pressing against himself.
It is not by any means a thing they maintain long, no, instead they only do so until there is a sudden movement in the corner of the eye, a shadow that seems impossible bright and brilliant- that brings with it the scent of earth and spice, of herbs and faraway. Drawn to the curiosity of this moment they walk and slither: wind together and approach the scene with slow steps and weary hearts.
He screams, they feel terror and worry: Tindalos moving forward suddenly and inspecting the area with all the paternal eagerness and willingness to fight he musters; but Tithe is still there when Kagerus appears through the dream and he scoffs immediately and with all the attention bid to her.
It is not malice, but, it is something dark: perhaps blame or perhaps some irritation.
Tindalos, too, steadies himself and he places himself very suddenly between Kagerus and the child, and Mordgeld.
Silence is their preference for the moment, listening in with patience- until of course Tithe, some feet to the side of Kagerus huffs. He is effeminate in tone, almost soft and maternal; but with a lingering accent that formerly belonged to the residents of the Taiga.
“Sanctuary, ah- you are with the lot that came from Hyaline- slightly south west… near Pangea. Dangerous territory.” observational commentary but enough to force Tindalos to glance back with concern at Mordgeld and Nyctelios.
He speaks with the proverbial rumble and gruffness of any unamused father, ears leaning forward and notable widened in stance- postured in a way that for the moment he seems taller. “You’ve come at quite the time Kagerus. For all of us.” simplistic enough he maintains a regional accent of the old Pangean sound.
@[Kagerus] @[Mordgeld]