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Posted on April 27, 2011 at 01:41:32 AM by tristan and celidon
Warning: Some of the contents of this post may be unsuitable for younger readers. Thank you.
Celidon’s tail stopped wagging and the large green puppy sat down at Tristan’s side looking dejected. He did not like being ignored when all he wanted was his ear tickling! Why did Gawain not like him! Everyone like him! He was a puppy and he was green! Sensing his familiar’s sorrow, Tristan reached out a hand and folded his fingers into his familiar’s scruffy coat, and within moments Celidon’s tail was wagging once more, drumming loudly against the wooden floorboards. Whilst doing this the boy was also looking into his brother’s purple eyes, his head tilted slightly to one side as Gawain spoke, his eyebrows knitting together in annoyance. “Anything you can do,” Tristan huffed, “I can do, and probably twice as well,” he continued before sticking out his tongue defiantly at his sibling. Celidon took the opportunity to rest his large head in his faerie’s lap and Tristan, distracted by the sudden weight, smiled warmly and scratched the green hound affectionately behind the ear. It was then that Gawain mentioned the stables, and at that one word, the older boy had his little brother convinced. Tristan loved horses. He felt safe when he was with them, and felt as if there was a special connection between himself at the large animals. Since he was very young, Tristan had demonstrated that he had a certain way with animals, but horses were his speciality. He was able to soothe even the most agitated of mounts with a perfectly placed hand. He was able to tell his father what was bothering any that were ill, and knew when they were getting the right treatment. Tristan did not know how much of this Father had told Gawain, but whatever game the older boy had planned in stables, the green-eyed child could think of nowhere else he would rather be. “Okay then,” he grinned, slipping off the window seat, taking extra care not to stand on Celidon’s tail, and heading across the room towards the door. His small hand froze on the door handle, a single eyebrow raising upwards towards his hairline, in a manner so similar to Arthur that it was almost comedic. Scared? He had to be joking. How could he possibly be scared of going somewhere where he would be surrounded by horses on all sides. “You wish,” he laughed, taking a few steps backwards so that the door swung open on its hinges. “I have nothing to be scared of.” second son of arthur and lilith, prince of shaman. |
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