06-04-2018, 11:08 PM
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B alance is everything.This is something Wound has learned in her years of life — for there to be birth there must also be death, for there to be summer there must also be winter, for there to be good there must also be evil. The kindness of a heart can only be noticed when there is the darkness of a heart to compare it against. The blue of a summer sky can only be noticed when there is the overcast of a snowstorm to compare it against. Balance — good, bad; right, wrong — is what holds the world together and stops it from dropping into the realm of chaos. The children are just one piece of the balance of life. They have so much potential — there is the probability they will grow up to be beautiful, handsome adults who lead a kingdom to security and happiness and there is the probability they will grow up to connive their way into the pockets of many and steal away the futures of others. It is why Wound loves children so tenderly; her desire to protect them and mold them into the kind hearts of their world is one of her many passions. She notes his own eyes traveling toward the twins, even as they rapidly disappear with screams of glee and playfulness. “It’s only my shade if it’s my home,” she teases and a laugh follows her next breath. It’s been years since the stumbling, awkward Wound fell into Warrick’s chest and since then she’s been able to speak easier with men. Even the handsome ones. “You smell like this isn’t your home, either.” Although the scents of wind-scrubbed sky and spring sun drift from his russet feathers, the undertone of Ischia runs deep in his skin. It’s familiar to her nose, after visiting the island kingdom not long ago. “If you see any enemies” — she doesn’t have to say their names, certain he knows who they are just as she does — “promise me you won’t run away screaming without telling me first.” |
credit to nat of adoxography.
@[Belgaer]