03-09-2010, 12:30 AM
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(418.)
Those electric eyes were on him mistily for a moment, but they regained a fierce clarity when King spoke. He was alarmed somewhat—he believed no one (especially not an infant) would be able to watch under that glare without wavering somewhat. He tried to hold on to it as long as he could, but after a few seconds he flicked a large ear and glanced down. The image of his father's scarred countenance, ears arcing proudly over his skull, was still in his mind as he stared blankly at his tan paws. But his Papa's answer sent him looking up again, once more weathering his gaze. Him?
It was probably a good thing he stemmed the tide of questions with his own, because King was suddenly brimming with them. What is he thinking about me? And why? What why what why why? And though they were not coming from his mouth, they were alive in his eyes—tiny fragments of those that he was staring up into. Mama? Oh, right, Mama. "She is away," he answered vaguely. She hadn't told him where she was going, only, "She'll be back soon, though." He was slightly defensive—of course his mother would never leave him unattended for long periods of time. He would argue that he could take care of himself. King's ego was expanding as proportionally as he was growing, and there were few checks on it.
He blinked up at his father, asking, "Did you want to see her?" It was not as obvious as it was to the infant as it would be to others. For all he knew, Papa could have come to see him! It made a fierce collection of pride, fear, and apprehension settle in his heart. He didn't pay it much attention, though.