KingonAir

Ozzie stepped up to the mirror. He goes unusually quiet, controlling his breathing. He was told it was a way to be contemplative, though he usually preferred some form of running brook or wind to allow him to turn off the very anxious part of himself for a few minutes. For a time, he could see his own reflection as it was; eyebags still there, hair slightly set askew from having been sat down, eyes scanning the little things. Where wrinkles in his vest had formed. Where he had forgotten to shave, if something was caught on his teeth. And then he blinked once. And all of it was gone. His brow furrows...and then he looks down. And closes his eyes, sighing deeply. In front of him was a terrified and miserable looking little boy. He still had the silvery eyes and the brown hair, but the weight of what was to come, the expectations of what he was to be had not yet set in, or become an ever-present part of his life. His eyes were misting, and occasionally his breath silently hitched as

Words Chosen: Royal, Struggle, Water Ozzie finishes the world puzzle, and his brow furrows. What did any of these things have to do with one another? He lays back, and begins to lid his eyes, ruminating on the words...and he began to drift off to another place... He’s awoken by kin, a young man and woman, eyes similar to his. He stands up tall and looks them over. They are familiar, they are family. Or at least...they feel like it. They both place their hands to their hearts in earnest salute. “We apologize for disturbing your rest, Alpha. We have news.” the man starts. “Urgent news, yes. It’s...well…” the other continues, but neither can seem to spit it out. It was often like this when it came to bad news, or news of impending danger. All Ozzie does is place his hand on his hips. And they both buck up. “...It’s Salomon. He’s at the bridge. He plans to parlay.” Ozzie’s eyes open wide. Why would he, of all people, feel the need to parlay? He had made his point clear. There was war.