11-06-2016, 11:01 PM
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
OF MOVING ON
OF MOVING ON
The necessity to find her has escalated to priority. There was hostility in their latest meeting, but it had come from neither of them; nonetheless, Tiphon finds it imperative to apologize as though the brutish words had slipped past his own lips. His heart is in his throat, his legs flooded with electricity that powers him through trees and along small hills until she is within his field of vision. Like a machine Tiphon scales regions of the island that separate them until he is at Vida’s side with sweat lathering his porcelain coat. Even with winter blanketing across Beqanna their island remains somewhat temperate and warm. The sea breeze carries tropical heat from other regions and spares their land from the snow that is plaguing the rest of Beqanna. For that he is grateful, but his mind still reminisces of the brisk evenings in the Dale.
He approaches her during his reflection, but drawing in her familiar scent brings him back to the present and reminds him that the Dale is gone. It will never come back. This is home now, and this is his family.
A soft touch brings them together, his muzzle gliding down the gentle arch of her neck. ”Vida,” he croons her name into the warm afternoon air, ”I’m so sorry back there with Wallace.” His body flinches when the girl’s name falls from his tongue with a strange bitterness that he hasn’t tasted in months, perhaps longer. ”Consider her reprimanded,” but that will never be enough because the damage has already been dealt. The hostility has already been breached, the knife-sharp words already buried into flesh. Even an apology will not be enough to erase the memory, but he hopes to soothe the burning that even he feels stinging in the back of his mind. ”You will never be treated like that again. I will make sure of it. I offered you a home and protection when we first met, and I plan to forever honor that.” He nudges her again reassuringly, his gaze falling to the ground.
He approaches her during his reflection, but drawing in her familiar scent brings him back to the present and reminds him that the Dale is gone. It will never come back. This is home now, and this is his family.
A soft touch brings them together, his muzzle gliding down the gentle arch of her neck. ”Vida,” he croons her name into the warm afternoon air, ”I’m so sorry back there with Wallace.” His body flinches when the girl’s name falls from his tongue with a strange bitterness that he hasn’t tasted in months, perhaps longer. ”Consider her reprimanded,” but that will never be enough because the damage has already been dealt. The hostility has already been breached, the knife-sharp words already buried into flesh. Even an apology will not be enough to erase the memory, but he hopes to soothe the burning that even he feels stinging in the back of his mind. ”You will never be treated like that again. I will make sure of it. I offered you a home and protection when we first met, and I plan to forever honor that.” He nudges her again reassuringly, his gaze falling to the ground.
TIPHON
STARLACE AND INFECTION