Essentially, it's just gonna be another Daenerys Targaryen, inspired chapter. Or, if 365 dni had Punjabi culture instead of, Polish culture, plus a sanctuary for animals. Especially, if Khal Drogo, didn't y'know...do all that he did to her initially..and was a mafia boss. And, he lives and doesn't die from a wound! Frank's tulsa king horse name mentioned! ✨️
Inspired by: (I'm sorry if you didn't want to be tagged). @thehydraethereal @wwemcumuscleslover @thirtysomethingloser92 @talia-rumlow @stargildedskies @randomlittleimp
Lana del ray, Once Upon a dream. It really brings out the longing, familiar vibe with the Elephants. Especially, on Bill's POV. And Valka's quote from HTTYD 2. This wasn't a vicious beast, but an intelligent, gentle creature, whose soul reflected my own.
Plot: Jennifer, and Bill continue to house her new friends on his land. Meanwhile, he also discovers some more news she had laid dormant around him.
I AM EXCITED to introduce, Haathee's in this!!!they are my absolute favorite animal in the whole world...!☺️ Of course. I'm going to also add in her infamous Arabian stallion, she named after her brother, Kabir. Irrfan Khan is how I imagine Ranjit Singh. ( Irrfan Khan is also a treasured Bollywood actor in my childhood when he is a football player ).
P.s. Backstory of how she got her Moses, Khabib and Amira...it's very sad. BE WARNED! Ming Sucks! Mentions of nightmare! Mentions of sibling death! Mentions of secrets! Flashbacks. Sad backstory of the Elephants! Mentions of TV show King of the Hill.
SMALL, BUT VAGUE, TYSON MENTION. It will be relevant later on. Along with a possible Joanne appearance or mention later on. I do have a favoring for her in the show. Bill learns Jennifer's real name in the next chapter!👍
Backstory will be in this color. Also. Like Grandfathers ( Dwight/Ranjit ), like Granddaughter. 😉
Songs: Imran Khan, Gora Gora Rang. Imran Khan, Amplifier. Khalibali, Shail Hada and Shivam Pathak. Arjan Vailly, Bhupinder Babbal.
[ Two years ago...a week after Kabir's passing. Northern, Ohio. Before meeting, Bill. ]
After, she used the money, Kabir had from his business. She used a good amount to get herself a living space to call her own. In Amelia, Ohio. One thing led to another, she didn't know how it had changed but, she started making more money than even Kabir had.
Except, she didn't drive to them, she made them drive to her and met her somewhere.
That's when she shortly, caught the attention of Jackie Ming. A triad from Cal's payroll for his butt-buddies-back up investment. Because, Cal is a coward-garbage man.
Jackie, had seen the money she has been making just over a month. He wanted a piece of the action. Unfortunately. For him. She had been prepared to be paranoid, as a stoner and not trust others. He ended up having three corpses of men on his car.
He still didn't know, or, understand how she figured out where he lived. All. He mainly understood, beforehand besides money, was that she was, a Singh. She was competition for him and the future opium. He needed her taken out.
He also knew, that if Bill found her, it would be a problem for him and Cal for sure, because if they band together, and marry...Cal will never have a chance to grow more opportunities in Kansas. Or, Ohio even.
Her family--her family name, had been known to not like Chinese specifically, and had been known to have an alliance with the Bevilaqua's. He needed to stop that chance of them meeting. And reuniting that alliance.
As, a ballsy method to distract him. She had snooped around one of his small turf zones, there it was...the source of her problem. An old truck out in the heat, with three helpless cubs. Hungry, alone, and most importantly. Neglected by assholes. She noticed they were a part of Ming's crew because it was the same truck used to gun down her brother. With the same, fucked up fender and tail light on the right side.
That, was most likely where they bashed her brother's skull open. And, cut all his hair off to disgrace him, and the Sikh religon. Shaving his whole head bald, more like, scalping him was the more appropriate word.
She wasted no time, as she heard them cry out, they blindly searched about, pawing around. Seeking comfort in their time of need. And, time was of thee essence. She reached her hand into the half open window of the passenger side. She unlocked the door, and since it was already blazing hot, and they are covered in fur, she didn't take the towels or the tattered sheets.
She scooped up, each little cub with care, especially being even more gentle with the runt of the litter. The lone, orange and white one with stripes. The lions were at least more filled out looking, and would open their eyes soon. But, the little tiger, she wasn't so sure about. She really wasn't sure, if he would make it in the longterm. But, she would help make his suffering go away by taking him out of the heat.
Once, she made sure she had each crying cub in her hold. She took off into her former, brother's black, twenty-ten camry that she left running with a/c. And, made sure the cubs were getting air to cool down. She will get milk for them after, she makes sure she gets them out of here, away from this gas station, away from that fucking--truck!
At least...she had gotten them to stop crying for now. Thankfully. They all slept peacefully, bundled together. Clearly, a lot more comfortable in the cool sedan, their paws aren't being burned on hot plastic seats, instead, their paws are cushioned by velvet, especially with how they don't look like to have a problem with close proximity like they did. The tiger, cuddled up sweetly with the female lion, the male lion laid around both them in the backseat.
[ 2:00 o'clock in the morning...Kansas City. ]
She woke up, with a gasp, easing herself from the tightness in her chest. She hated that memory but, she didn't hate that she saved them. She leaned up in her shared bed with Bill.
She was so startled by her nightmare, she didn't notice Bill, reaching out his hand to her, moving her shoulder length, dark hair off her shoulder. It curled right at the end, in the shape of her shoulder. Perfectly framing it. Just like how it perfectly framed her face in Bill's view.
"What's goin' on?" He slurred tiredly, clearly a tired old man, but otherwise he was aware of how she is in distress. It was all in how, he felt how tense her shoulder was, besides her red-rimmed doe eyes threatening to spill with tears.
Sure, he was exhausted after the meeting with Dwight in Atlanta. But, nothing is above her needs in his eyes, especially when her eyes shine with sadness. He had to take this slow, she didn't just want to be showered with smooching when she has shot up nerves.
Even, in their shared darkness he could tell how sad or upset she looked. Her pretty eyes glistening in the moonlight, her dark lashes fanned over in clumps because of sticky tears.
Before, she could say 'nothing' to be dismissive. He pulled her into his shirtless chest, holding onto her and rubbing her back. Her breasts touching him, through her sleep shirt from her lack of a bra.
His rough thumbs brushed under her eye lids, wiping away any stray tears that spilled from her starry looking eyes. Brushing her hair away from her tear stained face. He knows she hates it sticking to her face.
"It's gone now...I'm right here, sweetheart." He continued to massage on her shoulders, feeling them sag from tension release. "Ya, didn't wake me." He adds, sleep still ridden in his voice, stopping her from having a chance of apologizing.
She snuggled, into his body more, accepting his support. He caressed his hand over her behind, releasing tension in her ass, and her upper thighs. She had one leg, slung around his hip.
"I'm here, sweet girl. Relax..." he encouraged her breathing. Even though, he usually touched that area in a playful-sexual manner. Right now, he is meaning to do it in a loving, caring manner.
He never paid any mind to them, but now that he is, he notices that she has a black inked tattoo, of an elephant on her thigh that she laid on him. It looked quite nice on her, and complimented her butterscotch complection.
She had a couple more tattoos, it looked to be more animals. But, he was too tired, he was worried about her and it was late. He will choose to have more interest later on at a better time.
He wiped another tear off her face, wiping it off her nose before it fell into her other eye. He was self aware of his morning breath but, he assumed correctly that she didn't care. With her answer of, her small hand on his chest and she closed the distance between them with her eyes closed in their dark room.
He returned the kiss, making it open mouthed and filthy. Sliding, his hot tongue in her mouth, he felt her rake her nails pleasantly in the nape of his neck. Their lips and tongues moved in synch, his form began to crowd her, moving her onto her back, he slid his hand under her sleep shirt eagerly.
He had always caught on, quickly--as a mental note to how, Jennifer was never the vocal type in bed. Unlike, his ex-wife Sandy, she had always been a screaming type. Jennifer, is more of an actions speak louder type. Especially, if she likes what he's doing, she shifts her legs apart more, showing subservience, turning him on.
Secretly, Jennifer's hindi pet name she calls him. Bakra. That means old goat, it turns him on. He will never ever, ever admit it to the younger woman. But, he does love being called an old goat...it's a lot better than being called Billy.
His hand making quick work of her firm breasts, and peaking nipples from the constant brushing of her shirt against them. He relented on their heated make-out, a string of saliva connected between them. Both their lips, parted out of breath and swollen.
He took both his hands, visibly happy like a child, to play with his lady's breasts. Making them move up and down, watching them bounce, putting him in a trance. His dark eyes mesmerized by her softness.
He was about to silence her gasps, until they both heard rapid fire gunshots. He wasted no time, shielding her more with his body, making sure her head was covered, by her tiny body being shoved more into the bed, and more underneath him.
"Are you okay..." she answers, completely in shock, knowing it's a stupid question but, she just wanted a second confirmation to ease her anxiety that made her body tremble.
"I'm okay. Stay here, doll-face!" He says, panicked about whom is shooting on his property. Throwing a random shirt on. More, focused on taking his own firearm with him out the door.
She made no objections to his command at all. Holding onto their, silky sheet. She waited and listened to shouting, pained shouting. Of course, it was his shouting, then she heard it was Vic's, and Sally Dogs.
She had wanted to play music on her phone. To distract herself from her, aching empty bottomless pit feeling of impending doom. Instead, she had only moved to grab her infamous ANF. Inc cart. Taking a thoughtful drag to calm herself, feeling the warm numbness calm her. Easing, the thoughts running through her head.
It wasn't long, thankfully. Before, Bill had approached their bed, sweat clustered on his forehead. He scrubbed a hand over his face, a habit he does, before he acknowledged her.
She raised her eyebrow at him, seemingly her vague way of trying to read him. "Vic got shot, twice...right after, I made that fucking agreement!" He finally sits on the bed next to her, and lays his head on her thighs once he had been situated.
She truly, had been at a loss of words. She figured it would be best, not to really say anything--- "Jen?" He looks at her expectantly, clearly seeking her guidance.
"I'm just at a loss of words...momentarily, not for forever. I was just buffering from what you said." She answered, after she had taken a minute to process. He just made an agreement with, Dwight...was this part of the agreement? Just like she had her own, agreement-experience, with taking over five states of Northern,Mexico to free the Haathee's from the cartel's enslaving them.
"It just doesn't make any sense..." he nodded at her words, "I'm thinkin' of taking him out, what do you think I should do?" He asks her, allowing her to play with his pinkie ring. She made the cringe face she makes when she has another idea.
"He is making a lot of money, bakra...but I do think that you two should definitely fix what happened with Vic." She voiced her opinion, he visibly had a change in demeanor about what he said. She massaged her hand into his ungelled hair, moving a piece sticking up.
She loved his hair when it was ungelled. Even, though she does like when he fixes it too. She thinks he looks like a business man, from her cultural point of view. To his point of view, and Cuban's possibly, he looks like a gangster. She knows he loves, when she says he looks nice before he goes somewhere.
"You could do it, in five years or three years time, however." She suggested to him, with a wink, he smiled back, contemplating it with her.
"Yeah, maybe in three years." He remarks, taking her thoughts in considerably.
[ 1979 Kansas City, ten year old, Bill Bevilaqua... ]
He tentatively raised his hand towards the trunk of the large behemoth of the male Elephant. The bull looked at the young, dark haired boy with concentration. Mostly, on being aware, a small being is in front of him.
"S...Sat..sri akal." He greets him nervously. His father always told him the Elephants were war animals. That's all their purpose is. Deep down, he didn't believe that himself.
He remembers what his great-great-grandfather's business partner, Ranjit Singh, had said about them. The tall, lightly bronzed, lanky-robust man looked upon the small boy. In his, Punjabi accent he told him that the Elephants are superior creatures of God. They bestow his strength and his care. But, Bill's father thought differently.
Now, as he stands in front of the animal. Secretly, avoiding his father, the bull let out a rumble of acknowledgement. His trunk, moving of his own accord, wrapping his singular digit in his trunk around his hand. Just holding his hand. Not hurting anyone. This is what, Mr. Singh meant the Haathee's are for.
Then, the bull, Dhruv, does the unexpected. Dhruv, let's go of his hand, snaking his trunk around Bill's torso and lifting him in the air, slowly and, helps him onto his back. He was now, on top of Dhruv's back! Ranjit, said Elephants didn't enjoy carrying people on their back, because usually, they were forced to.
Bill, didn't force Dhruv to do anything. Dhruv, just carried him up, helped him climb up, and Bill sat up on his back. Taking advantage to pet the elephant, patting on him appreciatively.
"Haathee, only listens when you speak Punjabi, or Hindi, my dear boy." Ranjit, said to him a week after Bill's mother had passed. This was when Bill had been curious about the Elephants. Wanting to hear everything and anything, especially from someone else's prospective. That isn't his father.
So, what better to ask the, Maharaja of the Haathee's? The man, whom brought all fifteen hundred of them in the prohibition Era. All, the way from Punjab, India! Besides the marijuana business he ran alongside his former great-great grandfather. The man, whom, also worshipped the animal himself and decorated them.
He patted on Dhruv, carefully. Once, Dhruv showed his acknowledgement, Bill motioned with his hands, cupping them. "Paani?" He questions the Bull's necessity. He earned a snort of disinterest,
Little, did Bill know. That, Dhruv, is the last elephant in the Bevilaqua ranch. Bill, never forgave his father for forcing his beloved friend Dhruv, to get killed and be in more pain from Mr. Thresher's dog's. Nine-teen seventy nine, was the last year the Bevilaqua's ever had a single herd. Dhruv, was one among five others. Dhruv, was the last bull. Ranjit Singh, soon passed of brain cancer shortly.
[ Fourty-six years later, present day Kansas City...after the Elephants. Twelve o'clock. ]
After, Jennifer had finished up making supper for the both of them. She was currently doing the dishes for the pots and pan she used.
They had the dal makhani, that Bill had asked for...personally she didn't want to make it. But, she does enjoy how he likes it. Chicken curry was an obvious add on, and a favorite for both parties. With, garlic Naan that she also made herself, besides paratha. She remembers how her brother and her used to make the doughs in the kitchen. She made, dhokla on the side with pagodas as well. But, no samosas. Bill, asks for them too much.
She asked him beforehand to get the Indian ketchup from, the Indian grocery store. Not the Kroger's or some shit. The Italian was confused when she called it ketchup. It's because to her, and in her former childhood, it is ketchup. But, it's called Maggi and it's sweet and spicy red sauce made with mirchi's. He likes it too. It's the only 'ketchup' he will allow in their household.
Now, she was working on making mango Lassi for their desert. Adding, the spices needed after she had added the mangoes with the yogurt. Mixing it in a blender.
"How's it goin'?" He shouted over the blender, while she was working on their smoothie. She stopped it once it was all smooth to her preference. "It's done now, is how it is." She called over to him, once she had a glass ready for him with a straw stuck in it.
"Yes!" He clasps his hands together, taking his drink from her. Automatically, smiling when he had tried it. She raised her eyebrows and smiled back at him knowingly.
"Glad you enjoy it." She answered, drinking her own down quickly. Proud, she perfected the batch, and didn't make it too bitter. Especially, since she forgot the sugar last time.
He was watching her show, king of the hill. Hank hill, scolding Joseph, about scaring the customer with the cat. This was the episode when Hank, has to shadow Joseph, and Bobby picks up shit. Like literal shit. Like, Bill and her usually do, before bed, they both watch this.
He noticed she finished her drink, because usually she would enjoy it. Savor the mango, tasting yogurt smoothie. "Oh! Where'ya off to?" He questioned, a bit worried with her change in behavior. "I gotta change, Kabir's water. And, let him out to work with riding lessons more." She explains, getting her working boots on.
He nodded, in understanding. Kabir, was the infamous bay colored Arabian, on the Bevilaqua ranch. He was meant to be sold to Cal, initially, but the stallion whom adorned a star on his head, and three socks out of four legs on him. Had made the choice, by tossing him off erratically. And, kicking at him, when he tried to pet him. Bucking his head in irritation, his black maned bristled from the force.
Bill, had to wrangle the stallion and kept him penned up, in a stall. And, ever since then, he had never seen him allow anyone to touch him. Bill, was almost convinced the stallion hated humans. Until, Jennifer had arrived, walking over to him, his ears upright. Fully interested, they have never met. And, yet. She told him one Punjabi word, and he responded in kind.
Ever since, she had been training him and riding him. Bill, almost cried tears when he saw her petting him. It was a very unnerving-yet tense moment. He also, allowed her to name him. Kabir, always whinnies for her everytime she goes out to see him.
Bill, is actually glad Cal, doesn't own, Kabir. Because, it turns out that Arabian is extremely fast and has high stamina. Great for long distances, in the heat. That horse, like Jennifer said, is a war horse that, just adores running. And, jumping whenever she is just riding him around off grid a bit.
She loves, doing tricks with him. Such, as when riding he will sprint and then, when the timing is right she will jump off of his back. Run along a platform alongside him. Then, hop back on him.
He never thought, he would see a horse love being brushed more than his own. But, Kabir really does enjoy a good brush, besides Jennifer rubbing his ears. Kabir, is so fast, speed wise, he is even faster than his own horse, an American Thoroughbred from a line of racing horses. Even, from the Kentucky derby.
Jennifer, asked him if anyone of those horses were winners. Bill, couldn't answer that. Which, made Jennifer laugh in response at the time. Kabir, clocked in at fifty-five, point twenty seven. His horse couldn't keep up. Kabir, lost them in the dust. That stallion does anything to please her, he seems eager to.
Of course, years ago, he would've openly discussed his dislike for the stallion. Considering, his behavior and all over the last couple months, at least three months before Jennifer even got here on the ranch. But, something that happened, makes him recoil.
If it weren't for Kabir, Jennifer would've been dead. When a bull, got loose out of the field, breaking free from the fence it was supposed to be kept up in. He saw Jennifer, and made a beeline, charging, with angry snorts. Full intent on bulldozing her.
Thank, God, Kabir broke out of his own pen, breaking the door, with the lock. Jumping over, the fence on the horse side, and leaping over her, his rear end already ready and he swiftly kicked at the bull.
Right, in the bull's head.
He didn't let up on kicking either, or trampling on him. Growling loudly, with flaring nostrils, puffing air at him, once he cowered. The bull, doesn't bother them anymore. Part of the reason why, Bill uses Kabir to herd the bull. The bull fears Kabir. And anytime he gives Bill, a hard time. Bill, knows whom to call.
After, the attack, Kabir leaned down to Jennifer's panicked form, lying on the ground. And, he leaned his head against hers, a attempt to show comfort. The ranch hands around who witnessed, were stunned.
No one, on the Bevilaqua ranch had ever seen a horse be that fiercely loyal. Except, in nineteen-twenty two, Ranjit Singh, and his horse Diwali. Diwali, was also an Arabian. But, a mare. A dapple-grey color. She mothered no fillies.
Ranjit, had always loved, Diwali. They, even had to make a casket made out of flowers, of all kind available when she gave her life for his. Saving, him against Ming's great-great-uncle whom had trespassed into Bevilaqua-Singh territory. Chan Ming was his name. He had been stealing weed with them, causing a war to break out when a deal could not be made at all.
Ranjit, had written in his journals, that Diwali was the most intelligent and loyal horse. The fiercest mare in Kansas City. She was meant for war, not racing. She was even slower than, Kabir and his own horse, Kitty-cat. Yes, Jennifer hates the name.
As, she was outside, changing, Kabir's water and giving him clean water. Then she let's him out of the stall, and he does his usual trick she taught him, by him sitting down, then getting up once she climbed on his back.
He chortled softly in response to her scratching his withers, watching his body jerk in response because the flies kept biting him there. Causing, the itch. She ran her hand, through his black mane, petting him softly.
She always had rode on him without a saddle, she assumes it has to do with him having a bad past with them. Or, maybe it was because, Cal used one to ride him. Either, way. The point is, he hates saddles and doesn't tolerate them. He will tolerate reins in his mouth, she doesn't want to hold onto his mane. She knows he would feel pain from it.
She remembers the first time she rode him. And, how she felt like all her worries and pressures in life, were just left behind. All the degrading things that were said to her. All the ignorant nine-eleven jokes. All the cliqué bitches that were in school with her, that made her feel small, unimportant and not beautiful because she wasn't born in the right skin tone to be seen as beautiful.
She had tears of relief rolling down her cheeks. Kabir, ran so fast that the wind pushed her tears, all down her neck to her breasts. Bill, had been riding alongside them with Kitty Kat. But, they had gone so far ahead, she couldn't see or hear Bill's shouting for them to slow down. She was glad for it, she didn't want him to see her cry. She was just overwhelmed by the emotions swirling within, searing in her chest and throat. Erupting out of her eyes.
She finally, had felt what it means to be free. To know what it means to fly, just like the cardinals that she would watch out the window, as a little girl. Longing to have her own wings to be free from her chaotic-broken home life. Not, to be trapped in an environment where she was not wanted.
That is the reason why she loved riding Kabir.
To feel like she was flying through her problems, like Spirit the buckskin stallion with the Indigenous American man.
"Ajaa, Kabir!" She commanded, squeezing her thighs around the horse slightly, tapping her foot lightly against his side. Feeling, the ground shake beneath them, watching the ground, wizz past them, everything becoming a blur. The stallion whinnied, rearing his front hooves in the air, gaining more acceleration.
She caught sight, briefly of the reactions of the ranch hands. Everytime, she went out to ride Kabir, they all would stop what their doing with their assigned horse and watch. The longest working ranch hand, Debbie, she watched with interest.
Bill, had his men and himself build her a race track for the stallion. She always took advantage of it with Kabir.
Speaking of the man, Bill was all the way at the end of the track, waiting for her. He had waved her over to stop. "Bas, Kabir." She gives the stallion another command he obeys to. His hooves slowing down, halting to a stop more smoothly than last time. They, had stopped right in front of the blue suited man.
Once, Kabir knelt down for her she hopped off his back. Patting him, on his withers. "What's up? Did Khabib attack someone else?" She asked, he shook his head, reaching to pet Kabir whom allowed it.
"No...there's five white Haathees."
She stopped in her tracks, with widened eyes, looking back at him, holding Kabir's reins. A subtle que of wanting Bill to walk and talk with her.
"That's not possible..." she shakes her head in disbelief. Certain, that they all were safe and content. And most of all, free and unchained from the circuses in Mexico. All, free roaming in her plazas in Mexico, sure. But, she didn't believe the whole herd actually made it in Missouri.
She was certain the bees had been used effectively as a border for them to stay where they are safe. Unless, if they moved around them somehow.
A loud rumble had answered the both of them. With the Earth, shaking underneath large footfalls. Kabir, whinnied erratically, and made his own way to his stall, when he got his reins out of Jennifer's hold. Bill, stood beside Jennifer, awaiting what was approaching them. Bill, she noticed, didn't look terrified.
If anything he kept, moving towards the incoming booming. "Bakra," she made a move to stop him, not knowing how her older females would react around a man. Since, men in cartels used to beat them, forcing them to haul loads of narcotics. Or, the hundreds of thousands she freed from the circuses.
Within, minutes the eldest of the five herd, of white African Elephants. Had come into view, flapping their ears in synch, swatting at the horseflies or fanning themselves. The youngest, Neytiri, had thrown dirt across her fair hide, cooling herself.
Without, any warning Bill, had walked over to, Elphaba, the eldest. She, stopped walking making her pale sister's stop marching. Without, Jennifer's knowledge, Bill had been crying tears of joy. He remembered, Ranjit Singh, had told him white Elephants were a symbol of God's devine return or order of his teachings returning.
There were five white Elephants in front of him. That means something big will happen. Indefinitely. And, his Jennifer, no doubt is the reason why they are here. Elephants hadn't been here on his ranch in over, forty six years.
"One day, in many years...my descendant will return the Haathees to the Bevilaqua's, Bill, my boy. Haathees are forever. Man, nor, his creations isn't forever." Ranjit Singh, in his hospital bed, holding his hand. Comforting him. This was after, Dhruv passed away. As a little boy he thought, the old Sikh man was nuts.
He reached out, his hand, visibly shaking. Hesitating on touching their trunks in greeting. Not in fear, but hopefully so he can restrain his eagerness. He cupped his hands as he did years ago, and referred to the horse troth. "Paani?" To his surprise, Elphaba reached her trunk out, to place in his open hands. Spraying water, messily.
Those five white Elephants, were the only African Elephants, Jennifer had in her herd of five-hundred thousand. Neytiri, the youngest, Elphaba-the eldest and matriarch, Zira-the middle sister who steals food from others, and Katie-the second youngest whom just minded her business.
They all must have tracked her from Chihuahua, Mexico, the mother of Elephants can only assume.
Just when, she was going to intervene once again, she watched Bill, his face within her view, a deep smile on his face. Sure, he was simply putting the water he was given, onto Elphaba's feet, but he was enjoying himself. More, importantly, they didn't seem to mind him either.
The older man, held onto Neytiri's trunk carefully, allowing the elephant to inspect his rings. Like, his onyx ring and his gold pinkie ring. She was using the ends of her trunk to twist them around his finger. Trunk and a man's hand meeting, a gentle meeting.
"I know you...I've walked with you, once upon a dream. I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar a gleam."
He mentally carried on his favorite memories he had with, Dhruv. Allowing, the white Elephants to come closer to inspect at him. He wished the bull was still around, they could play with the hoose together. But, now he can have five new friends to play with using the hoose. They were a whole lot bigger than, Dhruv in everyway.
He remembered his father's hateful words on how he called them monsters. To him, his father was the monster. He thought as he allowed a third elephant to lightly tug on his belt. A fourth took his 'jackass'-hat, as Jennifer called it. The motion making him laugh.
"I haven't seen your kind here, in almost fifty years. I am blessed you're here.." he noticed Elphaba, the eldest and biggest kept eye contact with him. She seemed the most sentient, just like Dhruv. Neytiri, simply trumpeted from behind him, flapping her ears.
This wasn't a vicious beast, but an intelligent, gentle creature, whose soul reflected his own. He thought to himself, still staring in the beautiful soul-ful brown eyes of Elphaba.
Unbeknownst to him, Jennifer smiled contently in the background. She just wanted him to have his moment. Remembering, his stories of how he mourned, Dhruv.
To be continued in chapter four, The Elephant in the room.
