Day One: Afternoon

[Orion]

It was weird; although Cold was the biggest, and only, obstacle in Koola's way to ownership of their empire, and as much as he wanted to keep his guard up, his black horned parent calmed him, made him feel at ease. He didn't like it. As much as he felt comfortable around the caped dictator, that very feeling subconsciously made him uncomfortable. The logical paradox washed around in his skull, unable to be resolved. Commanding a strong hold of his emotions and thoughts, Koola simply ignored it for now, continuing his entertaining quirk of narrating his Dante journey.

"As I walked behind my father, I noticed his black cape billowing up and down, revealing that his legs have gotten rather fat. Further suspicion leads me to believe that this endomorphic transition carries to his stomach as well. Also, his new golden armour makes him look like a queen."

"What was that?" Cold asked over his shoulder.

"Er... nothing."

"Come up here so I can hear you."

Koola increased the length of his strides to match those of Cold. They soon walked side by side, something they hadn't done in many, many years. Again, the prince felt that ease, that calming of his wariness next to his towering father. Fighting to keep vigil, he started looking around, surveying the area for any hostiles. It still clawed at him; maybe there was nothing he could do about it.

His three toed feet splashed as they squelched into a stretch of mud. The rain had stopped finally, the sun taking its rightful place in the sky and stealing the moisture back again. Dew covered leaves glistened beneath the rays, creating a picturesque scene of tranquility. Koola breathed it in.

"You're looking awfully calm," King Cold noticed. "Shouldn't you be more alert?"

"I... uh, yeah," Koola fumbled his words, being caught off-guard, mellowing in his embarrassing pleasure. He quickly changed the subject. "So, you've gotten fat lately."

"What?"

The prince reentered his friendly nature around his father. "You know, fat? When you get more jiggle than stiff?"

Cold jokingly pushed his son in the shoulder with one hand, but knocked him into the mud. Koola emerged, dripping and dirty.

"I think you need to be stiffer too!" the emperor laughed at his own joke. His amusement came to an abrupt stop when a thick clod of mud slapped into his open mouth. Spluttering and wiping his tongue against his arm, Cold reached for his son, but Koola leapt to his feet. For the next several minutes, a mud war ensued.

"Well, that was fun," the prince mused, scraping what mud he could from his skin. The exposed sun rapidly dried it, changing it from mud into dirt. As it dehydrated, it was easier to remove as flaky dust.

"This better come off my cape," the king warned, flapping it clean. He stood up, dusting himself one last time. "Come on, we gotta keep moving."

Koola sat on the ground for a moment longer. "The more we spent time together, the more I felt comfortable around the old man. It goes against every feeling I've ever had for another intelligent life form, but... father was really starting to grow on me."

"What did you say, son?"

The Icer smirked, rising to his feet. "Nothing, dad. Nothing."