07-20-2017, 09:12 PM
CURIOSITY KILLED THE CAT
& SATISFACTION BROUGHT HIM BACK
& SATISFACTION BROUGHT HIM BACK
Tephra's winter gives way to warm, humid spring and Dahmer is at peace. His heart is warm with the thought of being home. With the thought of his unborn child. Despite his own grieving heart, and all the things the black beast still does not know about Ellyse, he is ecstatic over the notion of fatherhood. It's new hat for the thoroughbred, who has many nieces and nephews but no children of his own to play with them. And while his courtship (or lack there of) with Ellyse had been quite nonexistent until their hearts had bled together beside the roiling River, he is happy that she, always confident and proud, is the mother of his child.
Lucrezia has been absent from the blue-eyed stallion's mind for some time, though there are moments that she sneaks the memory of her voice or her scent into his thoughts. He hastily shakes them away, and this early morning is no different. He is restless with worry and planning, prepared for Ellyse's birth but attempting to distract himself with ideas to regain favor within the volcano territory.
Smoak has already given him renewed purpose.
Dahmer has hidden himself away at the base of the volcano, in his private copse of trees. A few yards away, a slow-dripping lava stream seeps into the dark creek, hissing loudly with each drop. The orange of the plasma illuminates the area, just barely reaching Dahmer's sleek, winged frame. The light dances on his face as a gentle wind brings briny air from the sea.
Salt. Sulfur. Ellyse.
Dahmer frowns slightly, curious why the champagne mare is awake now, roaming beneath the navy, nearly black, sky. He is suddenly exposed, pulling away from the trees briskly. The thoroughbred moves in the direction of the sea, his feathered feathers nestled to his sides, still unused. It would do Ellyse no good if he tried and failed to fly this morning, unskilled and distracted with worry. So he continues on hoof, his gait quickening as her scent grows stronger. A different scent mixes with hers and Dahmer dismisses it; Tephra is a home to many, and their scents are everywhere.
But as he comes upon the narrow shoreline, cradled by rock and sea, Dahmer's icy blue eyes rest first on the dark entrance to the cave and then, as he nears, on the trio before him. First, fleetingly, he finds Ellyse to be sure that she has fared the birthing well, paying little mind to the flaxen chestnut she is pressed against, and then he is all eyes for Smoak.
Momentarily speechless, the black stallion takes a few tentative steps forward before lowering his winged frame to the ground, his knees digging into the damp clay. He extends his muscled neck and reaches a soft muzzle towards the newborn boy, awe finding its way over the sharp edges of his face. "Smoak," he whispers to the champagne colt, a gentle nicker rising unbidden in his chest. He finds the bone armor on his son's shoulders and chest and smiles wide at the trait his dam has passed to him, and then -- "Your eyes," he says as he turns his gaze upward towards Ellyse, "He has your eyes."
And then, finally, he realizes that they have company.
"And your eye," Dahmer muses to the other stallion with quiet amusement, "reminds me of my father. He lost his in a battle." His voice is not unkind, though they trail off towards the end as he turns his attention back to the colt. From his place on the ground, the winged thoroughbred watches his new son contently, but someway, somehow, a small inkling of jealousy unfurls in his belly.
No!, he thinks tersely to himself, jealousy will not do.
Lucrezia has been absent from the blue-eyed stallion's mind for some time, though there are moments that she sneaks the memory of her voice or her scent into his thoughts. He hastily shakes them away, and this early morning is no different. He is restless with worry and planning, prepared for Ellyse's birth but attempting to distract himself with ideas to regain favor within the volcano territory.
Smoak has already given him renewed purpose.
Dahmer has hidden himself away at the base of the volcano, in his private copse of trees. A few yards away, a slow-dripping lava stream seeps into the dark creek, hissing loudly with each drop. The orange of the plasma illuminates the area, just barely reaching Dahmer's sleek, winged frame. The light dances on his face as a gentle wind brings briny air from the sea.
Salt. Sulfur. Ellyse.
Dahmer frowns slightly, curious why the champagne mare is awake now, roaming beneath the navy, nearly black, sky. He is suddenly exposed, pulling away from the trees briskly. The thoroughbred moves in the direction of the sea, his feathered feathers nestled to his sides, still unused. It would do Ellyse no good if he tried and failed to fly this morning, unskilled and distracted with worry. So he continues on hoof, his gait quickening as her scent grows stronger. A different scent mixes with hers and Dahmer dismisses it; Tephra is a home to many, and their scents are everywhere.
But as he comes upon the narrow shoreline, cradled by rock and sea, Dahmer's icy blue eyes rest first on the dark entrance to the cave and then, as he nears, on the trio before him. First, fleetingly, he finds Ellyse to be sure that she has fared the birthing well, paying little mind to the flaxen chestnut she is pressed against, and then he is all eyes for Smoak.
Momentarily speechless, the black stallion takes a few tentative steps forward before lowering his winged frame to the ground, his knees digging into the damp clay. He extends his muscled neck and reaches a soft muzzle towards the newborn boy, awe finding its way over the sharp edges of his face. "Smoak," he whispers to the champagne colt, a gentle nicker rising unbidden in his chest. He finds the bone armor on his son's shoulders and chest and smiles wide at the trait his dam has passed to him, and then -- "Your eyes," he says as he turns his gaze upward towards Ellyse, "He has your eyes."
And then, finally, he realizes that they have company.
"And your eye," Dahmer muses to the other stallion with quiet amusement, "reminds me of my father. He lost his in a battle." His voice is not unkind, though they trail off towards the end as he turns his attention back to the colt. From his place on the ground, the winged thoroughbred watches his new son contently, but someway, somehow, a small inkling of jealousy unfurls in his belly.
No!, he thinks tersely to himself, jealousy will not do.
Dahmer
@[Ellyse] @[Ledger]