07-17-2019, 10:16 AM
The air at the northern coast still bites at him despite the passing of the equinox, and Pteron briefly longs for the already-shed protection of his dun winter’s coat. The first light has just begun to edge over Nerine, casting the water ahead and sand at his hooves into a myriad of shades of blue. Pteron enjoys this time of day, enjoys watching the dawn’s light sparkle off the distant glaciers of the Icicle Isle. The dawn grows infinitesimally brighter. The moment a path becomes clear, a soft depression in the sand that leads to a deeper one through the woods, Pteron departs.
Had he traveled by wing, the journey would have been far shorter. Instead, he takes the central path, albeit at an occasional canter, and arrives at the edge of the land exhausted but pleased with himself by noon. As he stands at the border, his gaze sweeps the open air above him, finally free from the crowding redwood canopy. A bright spring sky spreads wide, and Pteron is unable to resist the allure.
Despite the tired buzz of his legs, the pegasus’ wings are still fresh, and he banks and wheels for a few minutes for the joy of the wind in his mane. When he lights down, it is at the salty shore of the crescent salt lake. He’s no interest in drinking the saltwater, but he follows the inner curve until he finds the sweetwater spring that flows into the lake. There he drinks enough to slake his thirst and then turns to look around, curious who might be about.
He has not returned to Loess since his departure six months past, and he wonders what might have changed. The smoking remnants of the maze have vanished, blending with the rolling hills and scrubland that Pteron remembers so fondly. Has anyone new come to the hilly kingdom, he wonders. Has anyone left? The young stallion seeks out the familiar piebald coats of his dragonkin, but looks also for a pattern of blue on white on gold, curious if Ori still remains. Had her captivity ended with the Tephran war, he wonders, or does Castile still hold her as a breathing bargaining chip? The nearby hills remain empty a while long, and so Pteron takes another long draught and considers the location of the nearest hotspring. Though not nearly as cold as northern Taiga, there is enough of a chill in the air here that a hot soak might be fun.
@[Oriash]
Had he traveled by wing, the journey would have been far shorter. Instead, he takes the central path, albeit at an occasional canter, and arrives at the edge of the land exhausted but pleased with himself by noon. As he stands at the border, his gaze sweeps the open air above him, finally free from the crowding redwood canopy. A bright spring sky spreads wide, and Pteron is unable to resist the allure.
Despite the tired buzz of his legs, the pegasus’ wings are still fresh, and he banks and wheels for a few minutes for the joy of the wind in his mane. When he lights down, it is at the salty shore of the crescent salt lake. He’s no interest in drinking the saltwater, but he follows the inner curve until he finds the sweetwater spring that flows into the lake. There he drinks enough to slake his thirst and then turns to look around, curious who might be about.
He has not returned to Loess since his departure six months past, and he wonders what might have changed. The smoking remnants of the maze have vanished, blending with the rolling hills and scrubland that Pteron remembers so fondly. Has anyone new come to the hilly kingdom, he wonders. Has anyone left? The young stallion seeks out the familiar piebald coats of his dragonkin, but looks also for a pattern of blue on white on gold, curious if Ori still remains. Had her captivity ended with the Tephran war, he wonders, or does Castile still hold her as a breathing bargaining chip? The nearby hills remain empty a while long, and so Pteron takes another long draught and considers the location of the nearest hotspring. Though not nearly as cold as northern Taiga, there is enough of a chill in the air here that a hot soak might be fun.
@[Oriash]