COUNTING STARS

*Isardis* · 06-23-2014, 09:54 PM

So proud he had been of that ebony squirm when he had been granted the life of Sendoa?s womb, and yet here the growing boy stood; his mouth as foul as the stupidity it were fuelled from. Pale lips would wrinkle into a snarl, flashing ivories beneath cherry skin as his hackles would bristle in a show of his still-standing supremacy. His limbs would stretch beneath him as his body grew taller, sinew straining beneath a pallid pelt; and yet it would not be his own words that would bite the child on his hanging backside, but the voice of Argent, who through all their disagreements still stood as proud as ever by his side. Her words were no less than the truth, in what had Isardis failed? Nothing.

?The only task I will fail to do today, boy, is playing father daughter with your whelp-mother. I am not her servant, it is not my job to stroke her ego and heal her wounds; we stand amongst the ruins of the damage she has cast upon us, flailing weakly about the pillars she has brought down around us. Do you wish for me to track down the skin of her scruff and drag her helplessly to your hungry maw so you can cry upon her bosom? Know your place and know your strengths, you?d do well to remember she has abandoned you as much as she has abandoned Glaciem,? ruby gaze would narrow, so disappointed in the spoiled tongue of a babe he held such high hopes for.

His guard would not ease, willing to strike, willing to persuade the foolish boy of his own rights. No child of his would speak with such disrespect, and yet it seemed Kyarst were not alone today. The serpent tongue of Kyung would not be ignored, the viscious snarl rising yet again as anger-hungry gape would follow the ebony boys rolling frame. A sense of trust would coil beneath his ribs, knowing that as much as he once denied it, Argent was there? his blade was present, ever-sharpened and glowing, forever ready to support him both mentally and physically. Forelimbs pivetted towards the ebony child, Kyung that had spoken so out of turn, daring him with the syllables that stained his lips, ?What else ails your mind, child? Please, tell us more,? it was a warning to say the least, for if the child spoke again, his body was no less than ready to lunge.

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