If I Was A Flower
11-24-2013, 08:16 PM
It had been nearly a season since she had seen her niece, and oh how in the dark the Queen of Seracia was. Though her brother had visited her, had made her promises that she had all but begged him to see to, he had quite convenient left out many of the details. Never had she expected her brother to be a messenger, no; her sister was much more suited to inform her of what exactly had occurred during the siege, and -- quite frankly -- Epiphron was in no position to be traveling to Valhalla. As her kin's alarmingly familiar call sounded out across the vast lands, Epiphron moved quickly. The girl's stomach would churn, her mind reeling at the possibilities. Once, she would have been overjoyed to see those faces she missed so terribly these last few weeks, but now the arrival of even her darling brother had filled her with worry and uncertainty. In such grim times, wolves did not travel alone to simply have reunions, to bring merry news -- except perhaps Syrinx, who had seemed quite a bit less stressed than she. A light laugh would leave her lips, a bitter sound, leaving her parted jaws in a puff of white smoke as her warm breath hit the frigid winter air. Even in Seracia, the winter was unforgiving and cruel. As her niece came into view, Epiphron's eyes would narrow as she approached. It was surprising to see her at all, let alone to see that she was pregnant. And oh, how pregnant -- certainly no more than a few weeks away. Her tail would curl above her back, a perfect arch, but not before giving one fond sweep behind her. "Do my eyes deceive me?" She would inquire loudly, her voice laced with a vague eagerness -- oblivious to the girl's situation. And yet there was a hesitance audible in her tones, for her niece had never struck her as the kind to want children. "You, my dear niece, are a sight for sore eyes." Perhaps it was a bit more warm than she usually tended to act toward Azalea, but it had been awful lately wondering what exactly had happened to her family -- who had been injured, who might be dead. Quietly the Queen would slip forth to embrace the girl, truly grateful for her visit. |
