05-10-2019, 10:00 AM
Resting amid the ferns has become something of a habit for the young stallion, but the crunch of hooves on frozen earth brings a quick end to his morning doze. He doesn’t fade from sight upon waking this time, but rather holds tight to his visibility. Though Pteron is no longer a danger-wary colt, a willing embrace of vulnerability is still contrary to his equine nature. Between the curled fronds he can make out a pale face, and as he pushes through the greenery the figure of Litotes comes into view.
Pteron finds they are eye-level just as the cremello stallion point out his growth, a coincidence that tugs up the edges of his mouth in amusement.
“I’d hope so,” he replies in a soft tenor voice that has only recently stopped quivering with adolescence. “For a while I was worried I’d end up with my mother’s height.” There is nothing wrong with Lepis’ height, of course, but Pteron dreams of a warrior’s life and there are few tales of great ponies. He’d ended up surpassing his father in the end, though he favors his dam still in his coblike build. He has growing to do yet, but he is still pleased to find that he can stand eye-to-eye with a man he had once considered impossibly tall.
When Litotes asks if Loess still treats him well, Pteron bobs his blue muzzle agreeably. “It is. Castile even promoted me in the diplomatic ranks recently. But not in the warrior ranks yet, though.” There is a definite tone of regret in his last statement. Pteron might look nearly grown – and at almost three he is certainly considered an adult – but his experience with battle is narrow. Bouts with his father (and less frequently his mother) are all well and good, but he knows he needs something broader.
He’s considered issuing a challenge, but is not entirely certain to whom. His mind had lingered on the violet-eyed boy from the Cove and the Hyaline girl with the shifting coat, but neither had struck him as warriors. He doesn't want to fight them even, he knows, he simply wants to see them again. Castile is out of the question (Pteron knows his limits), and so Pteron occupies himself with patrols and building up his endurance in hopes that this will help him in the future.
@[Litotes]
Pteron finds they are eye-level just as the cremello stallion point out his growth, a coincidence that tugs up the edges of his mouth in amusement.
“I’d hope so,” he replies in a soft tenor voice that has only recently stopped quivering with adolescence. “For a while I was worried I’d end up with my mother’s height.” There is nothing wrong with Lepis’ height, of course, but Pteron dreams of a warrior’s life and there are few tales of great ponies. He’d ended up surpassing his father in the end, though he favors his dam still in his coblike build. He has growing to do yet, but he is still pleased to find that he can stand eye-to-eye with a man he had once considered impossibly tall.
When Litotes asks if Loess still treats him well, Pteron bobs his blue muzzle agreeably. “It is. Castile even promoted me in the diplomatic ranks recently. But not in the warrior ranks yet, though.” There is a definite tone of regret in his last statement. Pteron might look nearly grown – and at almost three he is certainly considered an adult – but his experience with battle is narrow. Bouts with his father (and less frequently his mother) are all well and good, but he knows he needs something broader.
He’s considered issuing a challenge, but is not entirely certain to whom. His mind had lingered on the violet-eyed boy from the Cove and the Hyaline girl with the shifting coat, but neither had struck him as warriors. He doesn't want to fight them even, he knows, he simply wants to see them again. Castile is out of the question (Pteron knows his limits), and so Pteron occupies himself with patrols and building up his endurance in hopes that this will help him in the future.
@[Litotes]