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Posted on June 10, 2011 at 11:05:02 PM by tristan & celidon
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Celidon was distracted from his concern for his faerie’s well-being by the approach of the griffin. She might have been funny looking, but the mystical hound could not mistake the body language which indicated that another creature wanted to play. His tail began to wag enthusiastically and he released a couple of delighted gruff-like barks whilst lowering his front end towards the floor in a playful stance of his own. “Play!” he echoed happily dancing around the girl’s familiar encouragingly, and Tristan, watching them out of the corner of his eyes, smiled slightly. When Mara scolded her familiar, Cel stopped his bounding, sitting back on his haunches and tilting his head to one side. The dog glanced at Tristan seeking reassurance, and the boy responded with an encouraging nod, good dog he said telepathically. Celidon watched in alarm as the griffin’s ears dropped, he was far more caring than his fairy, and, without considering it to be an invasion of space approached the girl’s familiar and nudged her beak with his large scruffy head. “You should be nicer to her,” Tristan said, cocking his head in the direction of the girl’s griffin who was now looking rather dejected. The boy was not really the kind who gave too much consideration to other people and their feelings when he was dealing with them, but animals (no matter how strange) brought out his deeply buried caring side. “If she wants to play with Cel, then you might as well let her, she’s not hurting anyone.” His green eyes glowed defiantly, as if daring the girl to disagree with him, his mouth forming a thin, challenging line, “if you want to be bossy and horrid to other people, then fine, but don’t take it out on her.” “I was here first,” Tristan replied stubbornly, “I don’t need my name writing on anything. Just because YOU want something does not mean that everyone has to go out of their way to give it to you. Didn’t anyone ever tell you that?” His eyes narrowed suspiciously as she continued in her little rant, and he found himself waiting, with greater anticipation for her to stamp her foot. She seemed like the type. “Well,” the boy responded, folding his arms across his chest, “I would rather be stubborn and called silly by you, than actually be you and be bossy and spoiled.” He was caught by surprise by her next action, and closed his hand tightly around one of the protruding stones as she manoeuvred her way on top of him. There was a nasty moment in which Tristan was sure that he was about to fall from his perch, but fortunately, he managed to keep himself in place. It was strange, but once the moment of danger had passed, he found the rush it left him with rather exhilarating, and cast a grin in Cel’s direction. “Does anyone actually like you who doesn’t have to?” he asked her incredulously, deliberately arranging his facial expression to appear as if she had not discomforted him in the slightest. |
for we were made of stronger things, the memories of soldiers, the children of kings |
 original image by Stefan Tell at flickr.com |
Replies:
- and when we get to the ocean - By stellemaria June 11, 2011 at 01:26:32 AM
- for we were made of stronger things - By tristan & celidon June 22, 2011 at 08:27:16 PM
- we're gonna take a boat to the end of the world - By stellemaria June 24, 2011 at 00:33:17 AM
- for we were made of stronger things - By tristan & celidon June 28, 2011 at 09:17:42 PM
- all the way to the end of the world - By stellemaria June 30, 2011 at 09:46:20 PM
- for we were made of stronger things - By tristan & celidon June 28, 2011 at 09:17:42 PM
- we're gonna take a boat to the end of the world - By stellemaria June 24, 2011 at 00:33:17 AM
- for we were made of stronger things - By tristan & celidon June 22, 2011 at 08:27:16 PM
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