Feb 11 2019, 10:09 PM
Pride gave Azizos a gentle nudge.
"Do you need more sleep?" he asked, gently. "It's time for our lesson." He didn't want to delay it too long--the light would soon be failing, the cave's evening coming on. Energy magic could be dangerous at the best of times, and practicing it in the dark would introduce a new element of danger that he didn't feel Azizos was quite ready for.
When the little one stirred (not so little, anymore, he reminded himself), Pride spoke again. "I thought I might take you to the water. The pools. They will show you more clearly the effects of kinetic impacts, even what's normally invisible to our eyes. If you're up for it?" Then he stepped back, looking over his son.
They had grown.
At birth, they had been small, clumsy things with bright wide eyes. They had staggered and scampered and played and their parents had watched over them closely.
At a cycle of age, both had been equally clumsy--nock-kneed and gangly as they began to grow toward their adult sizes. The stumbling had lessened, but not greatly, and their eyes had taken on humor and playfulness.
At two cycles, Pride thought he'd noted more intensity in Azizos's gaze, and more dreamy distraction in Arsu's. The two were fawns, cubs, colts--whatever you'd call it--taller, with legs too long for their bodies.
Now, at three cycles old, they were at last beginning to grow into their adult forms. The exuberance of youth was, he felt, somewhat fading--giving way to their individual interests and thought patterns. In Arsu this manifested in daydreaming, in longing ruminations and storytelling of his own--not unlike Mercurius, but without the bitter hint of past defeats. Azizos showed interest in his energy magic, intent and studious, carefully wording his speech and always deeply focused. He was, Pride felt, much like himself--but with a tendency to quickly grow discouraged, disappointed.
He hoped to rectify that, as well as teaching his son how to cast magic to the best of his ability.
He was proud of them, though--proud of them both.
They're good kids.
Some twenty yards off, under the cover of heavy brush, he could feel his familiar. The white arctic hare was washing her face, grooming her whiskers, and eavesdropping on his every thought. She couldn't understand words, of course--but she grasped his love for his sons, his faint worry for Azizos' self-defeat, and Pride's own pride. Her own thought--acidic as always, but humorous, playful--came back to his own mind, and if he had to put it into words it would have been: You're boring.
He sent back an amused acknowledgement, and stepped back, waiting for his son to fully wake.
"Do you need more sleep?" he asked, gently. "It's time for our lesson." He didn't want to delay it too long--the light would soon be failing, the cave's evening coming on. Energy magic could be dangerous at the best of times, and practicing it in the dark would introduce a new element of danger that he didn't feel Azizos was quite ready for.
When the little one stirred (not so little, anymore, he reminded himself), Pride spoke again. "I thought I might take you to the water. The pools. They will show you more clearly the effects of kinetic impacts, even what's normally invisible to our eyes. If you're up for it?" Then he stepped back, looking over his son.
They had grown.
At birth, they had been small, clumsy things with bright wide eyes. They had staggered and scampered and played and their parents had watched over them closely.
At a cycle of age, both had been equally clumsy--nock-kneed and gangly as they began to grow toward their adult sizes. The stumbling had lessened, but not greatly, and their eyes had taken on humor and playfulness.
At two cycles, Pride thought he'd noted more intensity in Azizos's gaze, and more dreamy distraction in Arsu's. The two were fawns, cubs, colts--whatever you'd call it--taller, with legs too long for their bodies.
Now, at three cycles old, they were at last beginning to grow into their adult forms. The exuberance of youth was, he felt, somewhat fading--giving way to their individual interests and thought patterns. In Arsu this manifested in daydreaming, in longing ruminations and storytelling of his own--not unlike Mercurius, but without the bitter hint of past defeats. Azizos showed interest in his energy magic, intent and studious, carefully wording his speech and always deeply focused. He was, Pride felt, much like himself--but with a tendency to quickly grow discouraged, disappointed.
He hoped to rectify that, as well as teaching his son how to cast magic to the best of his ability.
He was proud of them, though--proud of them both.
They're good kids.
Some twenty yards off, under the cover of heavy brush, he could feel his familiar. The white arctic hare was washing her face, grooming her whiskers, and eavesdropping on his every thought. She couldn't understand words, of course--but she grasped his love for his sons, his faint worry for Azizos' self-defeat, and Pride's own pride. Her own thought--acidic as always, but humorous, playful--came back to his own mind, and if he had to put it into words it would have been: You're boring.
He sent back an amused acknowledgement, and stepped back, waiting for his son to fully wake.
@Azizos