Erebos could hear the impending lecture – after all, the Sword and the Evergreen had them in spades. Why could they do reckless things, but he couldn’t? would be his mantra probably for life, but his brows furrowed slightly at the rarity, the burns, the respect. Heaving a sigh, he glanced over at Ember, feeling his own dreams of gravitas already fizzling out. “Oh,” he pouted at Nina, as if either disappointed the companion wouldn’t be unfurling fire right in front of them, or because he was young, impetuous, and prone to half-listening.
But then his father was roaming, and he suddenly remembered the other mission. Grabbing hold of fur and righting himself so he wasn’t sliding off, he glanced over his shoulder at Nina again, the excitement and ebullience returning; not one to be down for too long. “Sparklers! Are you going to get one? We’ll get Marcus one too.” Maybe the hybrid was already over there, or getting some food.
But then his father was roaming, and he suddenly remembered the other mission. Grabbing hold of fur and righting himself so he wasn’t sliding off, he glanced over his shoulder at Nina again, the excitement and ebullience returning; not one to be down for too long. “Sparklers! Are you going to get one? We’ll get Marcus one too.” Maybe the hybrid was already over there, or getting some food.
erebos
and then we dream so much
