06-21-2019, 06:38 PM
“We’ve not met.” Pteron says in response to Kota’s query, but his olive eyes do not leave Jakub. He cannot be certain, but there is almost enough evidence that the dark haired stallion is a Tephran. The young pegasus knows that some of the residents of the jungle had ran from the fires and been lost to Beqanna; Father had said as much. The Loessian contingent had not followed those that fled, knowing that their true ire was deserved by those that remained to fight. They deserved the fire and more, and Pteron has been assured that they will be served it in time.
He’s sworn it himself to the little grave where his baby brother lies, a loss for his family and kingdom that no Field recruit will ever fill.
Still, he knows better than to pick a fight in the Feild, so rather than name Jakub as a child-murderer, he instead projects happiness into his own mind and exhales the breath he has been holding in a quiet sigh that he knows is not entirely fitting to the situation.
“I could propose something in Loess,” he tells the pair of mares, “or in the Taiga if you’d prefer a home in the woods rather than one in the hills.”
@[Let] @[Jakub]
He’s sworn it himself to the little grave where his baby brother lies, a loss for his family and kingdom that no Field recruit will ever fill.
Still, he knows better than to pick a fight in the Feild, so rather than name Jakub as a child-murderer, he instead projects happiness into his own mind and exhales the breath he has been holding in a quiet sigh that he knows is not entirely fitting to the situation.
“I could propose something in Loess,” he tells the pair of mares, “or in the Taiga if you’d prefer a home in the woods rather than one in the hills.”
@[Let] @[Jakub]