01-22-2019, 02:20 PM
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
OF MOVING ON
OF MOVING ON
Tiphon listens, his eyes darting back and forth. His blood boils through his veins, but his lips are pursed shut, stoic to hide the anger brewing through him. More often his attention dwells on Wallace, replaying her intentions to leave him, to leave this island with her entire family. Truthfully, it hurt him, and his expression openly mirrored that during their conversation. She had been apologetic, but she confirmed that she and her family didn’t belong here, that Ischia was their home. ”Temporary,” he addresses her, easily enough ignoring the dimwitted stallion, ”you told me all of this was temporary. You and your family belong in Ischia, not here, you said, and that was exactly where you were heading – to leave me on this island.” Somehow, he manages to level his voice and tone down the frustration poisoning his ever fiber. How long, exactly, has it been since he was last so furious? So betrayed?
But they perceived him as the traitor.
Again, he addresses her with Kerberos idiotically fuming with minimal breaths. Admittedly, Tiphon never cared for him, but provided a respectable front because they needed a refuge and supposedly were no longer welcome on Ischia any longer. ”You want to stay with him, Wallace?” A brow lifts, eerily calm amid the rush of adrenaline among them. ”You flinch from him. You’re unhappy around him.” His eyes narrow as they finally switch to the stallion, ruffling his wings as he faces Kerberos. ”You’re proving exactly why you had no rank here. You’re too emotional, selfish, volatile, bigheaded… Need I continue?” His head inclines, his stare intensifying. ”When envoys came to the island, you had no interest. You had an opportunity, and then rushed off. I saw nothing in you that screamed deserving, to be honest. Had you shown interest and incentive, or even told me anything about yourself, then maybe it could have happened. But no one stood out and showed a single interest in the herd’s affairs as a whole. I was alone in that.” He shrugs nonchalantly because it’s in the past now and not worth revisiting.
”I’m remaining here with a rank, so no, I haven’t forfeited the island completely. I still hold a rank unlike you. I stepped aside and agreed to a new responsibility as to not abandon the island. I suppose you wouldn’t know that since it was agreed upon before everyone decided to arrive. I’m remaining here to continue healing the plague’s symptoms.” His expression is stern, impassive. Everything is tumbling out of control unnecessarily, and certainly he is to blame. Blinking, he finds the woman with Phoenix wings, observing her before nodding his head. ”Yes, I screamed. It doesn’t feel great being bitten, but I’m capable of healing myself.” His shoulders roll again, working the muscles that were previously torn. With everything dragging out and with increasing restlessness, Tiphon deeply sighs. ”Wallace, are you head of your family or not? You seem decisive yet contradictory with what you told me previously versus now. Castile is still willing to talk despite everyone acting out like bigots. You, or whomever in your family is the sole head, go talk to him and sort this out because this circling banter is a waste of energy.” His closing statement nearly echoes the rebuttal of the newly-arrived male. He, admittedly, breaches good points – a seeming rarity in this conversation. With a snort and shake of his head, Tiphon resumes his brief quiet and glances among them, waiting for this to all end.
But they perceived him as the traitor.
Again, he addresses her with Kerberos idiotically fuming with minimal breaths. Admittedly, Tiphon never cared for him, but provided a respectable front because they needed a refuge and supposedly were no longer welcome on Ischia any longer. ”You want to stay with him, Wallace?” A brow lifts, eerily calm amid the rush of adrenaline among them. ”You flinch from him. You’re unhappy around him.” His eyes narrow as they finally switch to the stallion, ruffling his wings as he faces Kerberos. ”You’re proving exactly why you had no rank here. You’re too emotional, selfish, volatile, bigheaded… Need I continue?” His head inclines, his stare intensifying. ”When envoys came to the island, you had no interest. You had an opportunity, and then rushed off. I saw nothing in you that screamed deserving, to be honest. Had you shown interest and incentive, or even told me anything about yourself, then maybe it could have happened. But no one stood out and showed a single interest in the herd’s affairs as a whole. I was alone in that.” He shrugs nonchalantly because it’s in the past now and not worth revisiting.
”I’m remaining here with a rank, so no, I haven’t forfeited the island completely. I still hold a rank unlike you. I stepped aside and agreed to a new responsibility as to not abandon the island. I suppose you wouldn’t know that since it was agreed upon before everyone decided to arrive. I’m remaining here to continue healing the plague’s symptoms.” His expression is stern, impassive. Everything is tumbling out of control unnecessarily, and certainly he is to blame. Blinking, he finds the woman with Phoenix wings, observing her before nodding his head. ”Yes, I screamed. It doesn’t feel great being bitten, but I’m capable of healing myself.” His shoulders roll again, working the muscles that were previously torn. With everything dragging out and with increasing restlessness, Tiphon deeply sighs. ”Wallace, are you head of your family or not? You seem decisive yet contradictory with what you told me previously versus now. Castile is still willing to talk despite everyone acting out like bigots. You, or whomever in your family is the sole head, go talk to him and sort this out because this circling banter is a waste of energy.” His closing statement nearly echoes the rebuttal of the newly-arrived male. He, admittedly, breaches good points – a seeming rarity in this conversation. With a snort and shake of his head, Tiphon resumes his brief quiet and glances among them, waiting for this to all end.
TIPHON
STARLACE AND INFECTION