The statement makes them rethink the urge to protest the use of their broken voice. They purposely do not use it because it is hard to make words, sounding like a shattered mortal, the last of their kind. They might be a god now but they weren't before - the memories lost to the ether when they were reborn - so they do not remember the sins of the flesh the same as others might.
Especially not until now. Ellipsa was not the Lands of Old Faith - where there was no time - the flock needed them. Followers offered, certainly so, but they declined. Favoritism only led to fights amongst the flock. It was not something that they required either. They were content to keep going on.
This. This was different. They knew Narinder held sinful thoughts - thoughts targeted toward them - but they never pressed beyond helping relieve the overwhelmed condition. They were bound together in ways that others could not fathom and the Lamb was content with that. They would not force when they had already forced hands to keep on living. But when that devotion - true devotion and loyalty - comes from their second, coupled with the words only for them - the link still there despite everything. Words to tip the scales and let them simply be.
They'll remember this. How could they not?
Their body reacts before they can even think an answer - it's too much. Too, too much. But it's so good as well - their thighs quivering against pointed ears as they cannot help themselves. The release comes swiftly, tousled wool shivering as the rest of them tightens, one hand fisting fleece as the other grasps into dark fur. Fingers thread through the scruff, holding on desperately to where a crown used to sit upon their second's brow.
The broken sounds of their voice cry out, starting syllables of Narinder's name, but it is a strangled noise once more as their back arches and they let themselves go.
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bleatingdeath) wrote2025-08-14 01:55 pm
Re: in person aka standing behind you breathing omniously
Especially not until now. Ellipsa was not the Lands of Old Faith - where there was no time - the flock needed them. Followers offered, certainly so, but they declined. Favoritism only led to fights amongst the flock. It was not something that they required either. They were content to keep going on.
This. This was different. They knew Narinder held sinful thoughts - thoughts targeted toward them - but they never pressed beyond helping relieve the overwhelmed condition. They were bound together in ways that others could not fathom and the Lamb was content with that. They would not force when they had already forced hands to keep on living. But when that devotion - true devotion and loyalty - comes from their second, coupled with the words only for them - the link still there despite everything. Words to tip the scales and let them simply be.
They'll remember this. How could they not?
Their body reacts before they can even think an answer - it's too much. Too, too much. But it's so good as well - their thighs quivering against pointed ears as they cannot help themselves. The release comes swiftly, tousled wool shivering as the rest of them tightens, one hand fisting fleece as the other grasps into dark fur. Fingers thread through the scruff, holding on desperately to where a crown used to sit upon their second's brow.
The broken sounds of their voice cry out, starting syllables of Narinder's name, but it is a strangled noise once more as their back arches and they let themselves go.