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All Welcome  - A state of conflict or a conflicted state?

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Noah
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#1

The little swallow gambolled with light, springing strides through the sea of whiskered gold, while Noah watched on with an ever dimming eye; he was troubled yet by the harrowing memories of feline soldiers and their winged, canine slaves. The tiny creature’s frivolous naivety was a gift, or so he kept telling himself, a distraction from the mundane pressure to protect, his duty - guarding this precious family - which had all but taken the topmost priority in his life (at the sacrifice of everything else). Nights were spent far from the cosy, replenishing wings of sweet slumber, further still from the stew of virile impulse which had driven both his motivation and sense of ambition, in times past. 

Noah was failing - if not his beloved dove and their daughter - within himself. 

He was falling. 

The winged stallion walked slowly, with the dead weight of lethargy (of internal conflict and indecision), dulling each stride. Nora, she who had stolen his love, his heart and his innocence, lingered among the tangled web of his toxic thoughts; the flame which had burned so fiercely had wilted, through no fault of her own. With every inch of his being, he cared for her, loved her, but something had changed between them, perhaps someone, and like a steel stake, there seemed to be a new divide between them. Pensively he eyed Miette, the apple of her mother’s eye, and couldn't help the sudden surge of resentment which curdled his affection. As she frolicked and cavorted through the sunshine ahead, the eagle wondered what would happen if he'd just turned then, and left her. 

The thought lingered in his head like a niggling itch; he paused, conflicted, torn in two by the desire to be free, and the need to protect something so pure - a creature that he was wholly responsible for. As though scouting the area behind for witnesses, his sea-blue eyes swivelled around, a decidedly agitated expression thick around their brooding gape. No, he scolded, stamping a feather hoof with startling ferocity into the soft carpet of grass beneath. And so, lost beneath the tide of ill-mood, he continued towards those jagged mountains that had for long risen in silent guard against the perils beyond Denocte. 



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Rostislav
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#2

Rostislav
Having freshly been crowned the warden of Denocte, I walk through the various lands, looking for wandering souls. Wandering souls that need protecting, for after all that's my job. Okay that's not really what I'm doing, for as far as I know the world is at peace. (Except for Helovia burning in the far distance.) Instead I simply want to introduce myself to the citizens of Denocte, having only recently arrived. Damaris trails some twenty yards behind me, keeping her thoughts to herself, though her overall aura is one of contentment and joy.

The sun shines above us, casting a heat in our skins, especially for my furry obsidian hellhound. I'm a little more comfortable that she, perhaps. As we walk a burst of motion catches my eye. I turn my head to the left and Damaris trots to catch up to me, her green eyes staring ahead. One adult, one child. I scoff, for my eyes have told me the same. I recognize both of them, in fact. Miette, and Noah her father. As I near, I sense agitation and irritation coming from Noah, as if flies were buzzing around us biting at each minute wound. But there are no flies, or else they'd be biting at me from head to toe. I'm sweet flesh for such insects.

I get closer and call out to him, ignoring Miette for the time being. Damaris trots ahead. Start slow, they don't know you. She doesn't bother to answer me, having already known this. She trots up toward Noah, slowing to a walk when she's a few yards away. She barks softly and wags her tail. I call out at almost the same time. "Noah! How goes it, Comrade?" I pull up along side Damaris and offer the stallion a broad smile. "This is Damaris. I found her egg back in Helovia." I flick my tail at the hound, and she glances up at me with a soft grin.

Walk. Talk.
@Noah

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