"With my speechless calm eyes."
Unlike Roan he hadn’t figured out what was happening, what this feeling was that messed with his thoughts. All he knew was that he wanted to protect her, to keep her safe and sound at his side, forever. But right now he cannot help but to smile at her, already nodding his head before realising that she cannot see. ”I was born blind” he answers her, leaning in brush his lips against her cheek. ”I don’t know how, but my wish to see was granted by a genie. She restored my sight. She freed me from the ties that were held by my puppeteer.” Brynmor’s voice is soft as he explains, like their conversation is a secret, something shared just between them. He would tell her if she would ask about the strings and the puppeteer, he wouldn’t keep secrets from her. Especially since they had sculpted him ever since his birth.
He wouldn’t have believed it if their sweet, calm moment could turn into such ugly thing within moments. Jealousy consumes Brynmor, not at all liking it how the bay roan girl focusses her attention on another man. On top of that Roan allows this stranger to touch her, to mask her with his scent. He’s trembling, having trouble to hold himself back.
The graying male’s anger only rises once he realises that this stranger has much more experience in battle than he has. Not that it is something surprising, but right now it only adds fuel to the burning fire within him. Brynmor replies to the wordless threat by copying the sounds, almost growling like a feline or canine animal.
He can hear the protesting words somewhere far in the distance, but his clouded mind registers them as the sounds of a damsel in distress. It isn’t Brynmor’s intention to ignore her, but his mind has only room for the threat that this unknown male possesses. And he had promised to keep her safe. But then Roan stands in between them, forcing them both to snap out of the ridiculousness that has overcome them as she shouts. A ragged breath escapes his lips, but he no longer moves to launce himself at the male.
His ears stay turned back and his narrowed eyes angrily stare at the man a little longer, before he turns to look at her. Instantly his features soften, but Brynmor does not yet relax. His teeth grit together, throwing another angry look at the stranger. No, not a stranger, her father.
’Well, her father. You made a good first impression, pal.” Right when he had lost control, when emotions and testosterone take over the reign of his body, the voice of his imaginary friend decides to pop up again. Ever since Brynmor had gotten his sight back he had learned that the voice only existed in his head, but he had yet to overcome it. His lips are already parted to snap back at his non-existing friend, only managing to stop himself just in time.
Instead his breath stocks, utterly surprised by her words. Love. She loves him. Brynmor cannot help but to stupidly blink, but then the deep rumbling sound comes from deep within his chest. ”Roan” he breathes before reaching out to her. The graying man is still trembling, but he no longer has the urge to throw himself at the former Tundra king, no instead it is only the bay roan girl that is on his mind. ”Me too” he murmurs, telling her about his feelings, yet without saying those three words. Not with her father standing this close. He doesn’t like it that he still stands close to her too, but the urge to press his nose gently against hers is bigger than the dislike.
He only looks up when her father calls his name and although his ears are still standing back a little, the most of his anger is gone. Her words – and realisation of what his own strange feelings are – has calmed him down. ”Ianto.” He had remembered the name from when he and Roan had first met. She had told him that she had been looking for her father, a former Tundra king. But he was nothing more and nothing less than that. The gray stallion turns his head a little, glancing in Roan’s direction for a short second, before meeting Ianto’s gaze again. ”Long enough to feel at home, to have pledged my loyalty.”
"Nothing is coming to rise."
OOC: 'Italic' is what the imaginary voice in his mind says, "colored" is what Brynmor says.