04-07-2020, 01:46 AM
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Perhaps once he thought of family. Perhaps even thought of children to call his own one day. Yet such ridiculous thoughts were dismissed as an instinctual curiosity, that of a child questioning their origin. After years of receiving answers to doubting the logic of holy words in the form of a handprint marking his cheek or scars upon scars on his knees as penance, Isaac knew better than to fantasize of family. He couldn't even stand the concept of one anyway. Plenty others could provide the next generation, which would then go on to spawn another and another, exponentially populating the limited earth until extinction ambled along, be it through plague, hunger, violence, or disaster.
Besides even if he did want a family in his life, nobody was willing to speak with him, much less sleep. Unless stupefying liquor and tonics were employed, reducing evolved inhibition and consciousness to that same basic instinct.
But he absolutely refused to acknowledge that night and its dire consequences.
What he could acknowledge, however, was nudging along a pale egg through the forest debris, glowing nose tender to the inanimate thing. The sight of the vixen's radiance turned his head, igniting a desire that brought silent wings to glide in her path. Others approached before him, to which a dark scowl contrasted Zora's light, yet he still offered a stiff smile. Smiling would bring people to relax, to trust. "Good afternoon, Zora," the owl gentilly hummed, broad wings folding. With a pointed glare backward to the three other males, he took a moment to lightly run a wing over her back, basking in its warmth before pausing to drape across her shoulders.
Looking at the egg itself, it was nothing of interest. A small oval stone, really. Just another mouth to feed one day when some pathetic whelp hatched then the next, another body to bury, forgotten as time decomposed and recycled. Dull eyes narrowed as he studied it, dark feathers idly stroking the fox's fur. His attention cast itself back on Zora, casualty lining his toneless words as he suggested, "That should really go back to whatever nest it came from."
Besides even if he did want a family in his life, nobody was willing to speak with him, much less sleep. Unless stupefying liquor and tonics were employed, reducing evolved inhibition and consciousness to that same basic instinct.
But he absolutely refused to acknowledge that night and its dire consequences.
What he could acknowledge, however, was nudging along a pale egg through the forest debris, glowing nose tender to the inanimate thing. The sight of the vixen's radiance turned his head, igniting a desire that brought silent wings to glide in her path. Others approached before him, to which a dark scowl contrasted Zora's light, yet he still offered a stiff smile. Smiling would bring people to relax, to trust. "Good afternoon, Zora," the owl gentilly hummed, broad wings folding. With a pointed glare backward to the three other males, he took a moment to lightly run a wing over her back, basking in its warmth before pausing to drape across her shoulders.
Looking at the egg itself, it was nothing of interest. A small oval stone, really. Just another mouth to feed one day when some pathetic whelp hatched then the next, another body to bury, forgotten as time decomposed and recycled. Dull eyes narrowed as he studied it, dark feathers idly stroking the fox's fur. His attention cast itself back on Zora, casualty lining his toneless words as he suggested, "That should really go back to whatever nest it came from."