05-07-2021, 03:30 PM
stifled the choice and the air in my lungs;
better not to breathe than to breathe a lie
It’s no secret that Tiercel is the son of Wolfbane. The blue markings and golden body make him the spitting image of his father, and he might’ve even seemed like a reincarnation if it weren’t for the lack of wings and spine-mane. Gale inherited their family’s sigil, and the dun mentally makes a note of how his brother makes the feathers vanish. The idea of a brotherly competition is tempting, but for a moment, he is worried. The Underworld had weakened him — dying and reviving, being pulled apart each day, having his heart ripped from his chest — and he is still regaining his strength. The harsher angles of his face have softened, and his hips no longer jut from his flanks, but Tiercel is certain Nashua and Gale could beat him in a sprint.
He could handle balancing. Crossing a trunk spread across a creek seems like a mission he could accomplish, maybe even win. With his relief, Tiercel gives Mazikeen a cheeky smile as she places a kiss on his brother. “Oh, he’ll need it,” he says with confidence. The dun-and-navy stallion steps between his family members, pushing his way toward the creek with his typical stubborn, brazen swagger. That characteristic had been overcompensation for his flightlessness as a child, and now it has become a signature piece of Tiercel’s personality.
“Let me show you how it’s done, boys.” Standing in front of the pine tree, Tiercel realizes the trunk’s width is narrower than he had expected. His dark-tipped ears twisting back toward the others is the only sign of his hesitancy. Yet Tiercel steps forward regardless, placing one step solidly on the trunk. It wobbles slightly under his foot, but his next step seems to solidify the pine into the embankment.
He feels confident with his progress until he reaches the middle, where the trunk seems to lean toward the water. Tiercel sucks in a quick breath, and he moves quickly to compensate. In the final few feet of trunk, the dun springs toward the shore. He lands, though it’s clumsy, and he falls on his right shoulder. “Shit,” he groans quietly, rising from where he’d landed and turning toward his brothers. “Beat that!” And this is said with much more enthusiasm.
He could handle balancing. Crossing a trunk spread across a creek seems like a mission he could accomplish, maybe even win. With his relief, Tiercel gives Mazikeen a cheeky smile as she places a kiss on his brother. “Oh, he’ll need it,” he says with confidence. The dun-and-navy stallion steps between his family members, pushing his way toward the creek with his typical stubborn, brazen swagger. That characteristic had been overcompensation for his flightlessness as a child, and now it has become a signature piece of Tiercel’s personality.
“Let me show you how it’s done, boys.” Standing in front of the pine tree, Tiercel realizes the trunk’s width is narrower than he had expected. His dark-tipped ears twisting back toward the others is the only sign of his hesitancy. Yet Tiercel steps forward regardless, placing one step solidly on the trunk. It wobbles slightly under his foot, but his next step seems to solidify the pine into the embankment.
He feels confident with his progress until he reaches the middle, where the trunk seems to lean toward the water. Tiercel sucks in a quick breath, and he moves quickly to compensate. In the final few feet of trunk, the dun springs toward the shore. He lands, though it’s clumsy, and he falls on his right shoulder. “Shit,” he groans quietly, rising from where he’d landed and turning toward his brothers. “Beat that!” And this is said with much more enthusiasm.
tiercel.
@[Nashua]
@[Gale]
@[Mazikeen]