[ Respond | Andarin: The Mountains ]
Posted by Se. Formaldehyde on February 12, 2009, 6:32 pm, in reply to "All around me are familiar faces;"
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There could not possibly be any more truth in the matter; there would be suspicion with dear Skylar, and her father, and several others no doubt, if there was a noticeable issue between Wicked and myself. That a warrior and a scholar would so purposely avoid one another, upon sightings, would make little sense. Deliberately evacuating the premesis is implausible, and ultimately, it was the mature, kind, wise thing of Wicked to do when she brought herself and the child towards me. My Earth and Fires both experienced a familiar contact with Wicked's as she came, and something recognizeable about an Earth filly as the two trundled forwards.
It was as my inked pools came to notice the slight roaning upon the black filly's pelt that I stepped back slightly. I had hoped Wicked would not bring the child- I had expected, at most, that the warrioress alone would visit me occasionally. And yet the child was so beautiful that I could not do anything but smile; she was mine.
A sharp tendril of thought snaked into existence behind my mind's eye, however, and shot this down with a contorted cry, No she isn't! She'll never know you sired her, no one shall. It is your secret. Keep it that way. A sigh escaped my maw as I felt the filly collide with my forelegs; it did little to me except make me chuckle lightly, as I observed the excited smile of little Freya, as Wicked called her. I nodded with a blink of concealed thanks towards Wicked, hoping she got the message, before returning my attentions back to my daughter. Not mine, but mine all the same. Wicked was withholding a secret that her poor self didn't deserve to keep- she was too good for my dark problems to taint her life, and yet they have, and so she does. It is a great concern to me how Arnleif will behave, but Wicked is a trustworthy friend, and I pray she remains so. I will watch over Freya, I know. But not as a father. More as a godfather, a guardian- and nothing more.
Dipping my head to Freya's height, I smiled kindly to her, hoping this little filly could lead a good, healthy life without her father dragging her down. "Greetings, Freya. I am Formaldehyde, a friend of your mother's."
EARTH III FIRE III
Tacite Epitaphium
W O L F
SEER TRIBUNE
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