09-12-2019, 01:35 PM
How grand it is, he thinks, to so quickly find someone who also marvels at the star-studded sky. He beams at her as the moonlight dances across his eyes and ripples across his coat when a breeze whispers past. So much of the world seems consumed by their personal vendettas that their surroundings are often taken for granted or ignored. For weeks, Erio wondered if his miniature stature brought him closer to their world. From his vantage, blooming flowers, sprouting shrubs, and babbling creeks often swarm him. It’s impossible to ignore so much of what engulfs him; it’s not as though his eyes can easily meet those of a lost lover and distract him from all else.
Perhaps, until now.
A rare occasion this is, to have his eyes torn from the moonlit scene to admire something – someone – else of beauty and charisma. His heart patters both in excitement and confusion. He has only truly spoken with siblings, and while they are kind, they are not Astana.
His head inclines as he listens with fascination to her childhood memory. ”I’ve only seen them from afar, too. They elude me most times,” because I’m different, he wants to say but the words never come to fruition. It seems that Erio is meant to be different, to be a new breed or something. A hellhound, yes, but not at all fitting in the criteria of aggression or sinister plotting. One day, he will find his purpose, but in the meantime he is content filling his thoughts with Astana’s dreamlike voice as it wraps around him like tendrils of silk.
”That sounds breathtaking,” he turns his head away from her and stares admiringly up at the moon, picturing her reaching such extravagant goals. ”I want to explore, too. I want to see high above the trees, to see beyond the mountains and seas, because with it comes knowledge and adventure. I am not and will never be a soldier,” what once destroyed him emotionally has since become water under a bridge. He can accept that he will never fight. His heart does not crave power or dominance or glory. ”I just want to be the good in the world,” he remarks hesitantly, uncertain how to ever achieve this, before flickering his eyes back to Astana. ”There is so much darkness, so much danger, in Beqanna. I want to be a helping light, but I don’t even know how that would be possible – or where, even, to begin.” And what he doesn’t confess is that his own family flirts with the edges of that darkness, seeking sinful power and glory by destroying others.
It would be a great conflict, but in such a feral world, it’s to be expected eventually.
A sheepish grin just barely exposes the points of his jagged teeth. ”Such silly dreams children can have, I suppose,” he chuckles, indicating only his own impossible wishes.
Perhaps, until now.
A rare occasion this is, to have his eyes torn from the moonlit scene to admire something – someone – else of beauty and charisma. His heart patters both in excitement and confusion. He has only truly spoken with siblings, and while they are kind, they are not Astana.
His head inclines as he listens with fascination to her childhood memory. ”I’ve only seen them from afar, too. They elude me most times,” because I’m different, he wants to say but the words never come to fruition. It seems that Erio is meant to be different, to be a new breed or something. A hellhound, yes, but not at all fitting in the criteria of aggression or sinister plotting. One day, he will find his purpose, but in the meantime he is content filling his thoughts with Astana’s dreamlike voice as it wraps around him like tendrils of silk.
”That sounds breathtaking,” he turns his head away from her and stares admiringly up at the moon, picturing her reaching such extravagant goals. ”I want to explore, too. I want to see high above the trees, to see beyond the mountains and seas, because with it comes knowledge and adventure. I am not and will never be a soldier,” what once destroyed him emotionally has since become water under a bridge. He can accept that he will never fight. His heart does not crave power or dominance or glory. ”I just want to be the good in the world,” he remarks hesitantly, uncertain how to ever achieve this, before flickering his eyes back to Astana. ”There is so much darkness, so much danger, in Beqanna. I want to be a helping light, but I don’t even know how that would be possible – or where, even, to begin.” And what he doesn’t confess is that his own family flirts with the edges of that darkness, seeking sinful power and glory by destroying others.
It would be a great conflict, but in such a feral world, it’s to be expected eventually.
A sheepish grin just barely exposes the points of his jagged teeth. ”Such silly dreams children can have, I suppose,” he chuckles, indicating only his own impossible wishes.
erio
@[Astana]