09-23-2015, 04:05 PM
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I smile sweetly at my son, a wave of affection flooding over me. He really is a charming little bastard, my Kushiel. Even if he can't fight to save his life. I eye him critically. He <i>could</i> be a fighter. I know he has the capacity and certainly the size. But then again, not the ambition. Still, I suppose I'll keep claiming him as mine.
Children. They tend to make you a bit stupid.
"<b>Gods' sake, son. Did you forget how to work your feet?</b>"
I grin, more amused than I probably have a right to be. His attack <i>is</i> swifter this time and not entirely avoidable. I rear as his teeth come towards me, catching the bite a little lower on my neck. His teeth close like a pinch, and I wince, although I have a pleased look on my face. Finally! As he pulls back I fall forward from the rear and launch my knees into shoulder. I put minimal weight behind my attack, intending to cause a smart and not a lasting bruise. Besides, whether I like it or not, he is taller than me and I am not going to be able to brute force push him around. Kushiel can always scramble backwards or rear himself, so our legs clash instead of my legs against his side.
Most likely, he will pout.
"<b>Much better. Perhaps a bit more speed and power behind that attack the next time, dear.</b>" He may not want my opinion (I'm not sure which is more clear about this; his thoughts or his body language) but I'm his <i>mother</i> and if he thinks I'm about to stop giving him advice then he has clearly forgotten what having a mother means.
He doesn't say anything, sulking, but I catch his stray thoughts like a breeze. I give him a look. He ought to know it well. It's the same look he caught ten times a week as a child.
"<b>Oh, stop being dramatic, Kushiel.</b>" I scold. "<b>I'm not <i>abusing</i> you. I'm teaching you, and if you'd paid a little more attention when I was showing you how to fight, you wouldn't be so grumpy now.</b>"
I trot closer, my eyes softening (as they only do for this rascal), and nibble at his mane. "<b>See, you did fine. You can stop acting so aggrieved, silly goose.</b>"
<center><font color=black size=7 face=georgia>G A L L O W S</font>
<font color=gray size=3><i> We must all hang together or, assuredly, we shall all hang separately.</i><i></i></font></center>
</font></a>
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I smile sweetly at my son, a wave of affection flooding over me. He really is a charming little bastard, my Kushiel. Even if he can't fight to save his life. I eye him critically. He <i>could</i> be a fighter. I know he has the capacity and certainly the size. But then again, not the ambition. Still, I suppose I'll keep claiming him as mine.
Children. They tend to make you a bit stupid.
"<b>Gods' sake, son. Did you forget how to work your feet?</b>"
I grin, more amused than I probably have a right to be. His attack <i>is</i> swifter this time and not entirely avoidable. I rear as his teeth come towards me, catching the bite a little lower on my neck. His teeth close like a pinch, and I wince, although I have a pleased look on my face. Finally! As he pulls back I fall forward from the rear and launch my knees into shoulder. I put minimal weight behind my attack, intending to cause a smart and not a lasting bruise. Besides, whether I like it or not, he is taller than me and I am not going to be able to brute force push him around. Kushiel can always scramble backwards or rear himself, so our legs clash instead of my legs against his side.
Most likely, he will pout.
"<b>Much better. Perhaps a bit more speed and power behind that attack the next time, dear.</b>" He may not want my opinion (I'm not sure which is more clear about this; his thoughts or his body language) but I'm his <i>mother</i> and if he thinks I'm about to stop giving him advice then he has clearly forgotten what having a mother means.
He doesn't say anything, sulking, but I catch his stray thoughts like a breeze. I give him a look. He ought to know it well. It's the same look he caught ten times a week as a child.
"<b>Oh, stop being dramatic, Kushiel.</b>" I scold. "<b>I'm not <i>abusing</i> you. I'm teaching you, and if you'd paid a little more attention when I was showing you how to fight, you wouldn't be so grumpy now.</b>"
I trot closer, my eyes softening (as they only do for this rascal), and nibble at his mane. "<b>See, you did fine. You can stop acting so aggrieved, silly goose.</b>"
<center><font color=black size=7 face=georgia>G A L L O W S</font>
<font color=gray size=3><i> We must all hang together or, assuredly, we shall all hang separately.</i><i></i></font></center>
</font></a>
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