It is his favorite day of the year. The perfect time to go on the lash! Not that he couldn't do that any day. Hell, and he did, let's not fool ourselves. Every day is a good day to get plastered, or even just a bit tipsy, if you ask him. And so it is, though he had been out of sorts of late. Being all glad-eyed over a certain petite brunette that captured his attention and was capable of getting him to kid sit. Reilly. Kid-sitting. Yeah, unheard of. Until her. She made him care, made him feel more than the usual carefree, go-with-the-flow, attitude he so typically maintained. And if he was to be honest, he enjoys the difference. But old habits don't die overnight, so it is, and he feels the need tonight for a little distraction.
What better night than tonight?! The one day a year when the Irish celebrate their heritage. He hadn't been in his homeland in donkey's years, but that didn't mean he couldn't hold true to tradition. If not for any reason more than to get away for a while and really let loose. He couldn't remember the last time he had done so, and despite his brand of enjoyment, he had a pretty good memory. Too long, too long it'd been.
The meadow is the perfect place, with the greenery sprouting everywhere, and a commonplace for people of all sorts to come looking for.. hell, anything. Company, a good ride, who cares. He could easily spice it up for everyone, and he plans to do just that.
He isn't totally fluthered just yet, better to slowly build the party. His pace is his usual saunter, body large and broad and his hips naturally swaying with every easy step. Blue-green gaze lazily sweep over those he passes, giving the occasional tip of his chin in greeting along with a word or two. "Well! What's the story?" To no one in particular, his tones are deep, never lacking the brogue of his origins. He passes calmly, with a slight smirk on his lips. One deep exhale and he expands his power outside himself, letting warm tendrils seek those nearest him to sink into. It is like a shot of whiskey; that sting in the back of your throat, the warmth spreading into your belly, tingles along your skin, heightening awareness and lowering inhibitions. Oh yes, this is gonna be fun.
"Who's up for a bit o' craic?! C'mon and leave yer dry shites a' home. Eyy, and don't be shy. Plenty ta go aroon'd. Who wants the first taste. You? Ahh! Yeah, ya do! Fuckin' savage, I sware t'ya." His voice booms as he makes himself known, talking to anyone around to listen, and lastly to the closest one to look at him. His power reaches, just waiting to be welcomed in.
What better night than tonight?! The one day a year when the Irish celebrate their heritage. He hadn't been in his homeland in donkey's years, but that didn't mean he couldn't hold true to tradition. If not for any reason more than to get away for a while and really let loose. He couldn't remember the last time he had done so, and despite his brand of enjoyment, he had a pretty good memory. Too long, too long it'd been.
The meadow is the perfect place, with the greenery sprouting everywhere, and a commonplace for people of all sorts to come looking for.. hell, anything. Company, a good ride, who cares. He could easily spice it up for everyone, and he plans to do just that.
He isn't totally fluthered just yet, better to slowly build the party. His pace is his usual saunter, body large and broad and his hips naturally swaying with every easy step. Blue-green gaze lazily sweep over those he passes, giving the occasional tip of his chin in greeting along with a word or two. "Well! What's the story?" To no one in particular, his tones are deep, never lacking the brogue of his origins. He passes calmly, with a slight smirk on his lips. One deep exhale and he expands his power outside himself, letting warm tendrils seek those nearest him to sink into. It is like a shot of whiskey; that sting in the back of your throat, the warmth spreading into your belly, tingles along your skin, heightening awareness and lowering inhibitions. Oh yes, this is gonna be fun.
"Who's up for a bit o' craic?! C'mon and leave yer dry shites a' home. Eyy, and don't be shy. Plenty ta go aroon'd. Who wants the first taste. You? Ahh! Yeah, ya do! Fuckin' savage, I sware t'ya." His voice booms as he makes himself known, talking to anyone around to listen, and lastly to the closest one to look at him. His power reaches, just waiting to be welcomed in.
((Alright! So. His gift can affect your ponies as you please. I picture it to be like a telepathic connection. Affecting the brain more than being actually drunk, you know? So you're not drinking anything, they just have to come into contact with him. He has left himself 'open' so they can draw on it at will if you wish it. This is to be fun sexy drunk party! Doesn't necessarily have to make IC sense, unless you just want it to. Aaand probably makes sense if they want to forget all about it in the morning
. Let's have fun! Long or short replies, doesn't matter to me!))
