12-05-2018, 03:10 PM
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
OF MOVING ON
OF MOVING ON
”It certainly was,” Tiphon placidly agrees as his molten eyes follow Kerberos across the sand and into the palm trees. Quietly, curiously, he stares until the vegetation has fallen still, abandoned by the lavender male in his hunt. Blinking, Tiphon weighs the proclamation of the stallion, taking into consideration what may or can be. This conversation is seemingly dire. Futures lie in wait, with bated breath. This island has seemingly enjoyed its isolation from the mainland; even Tiphon has admittedly enjoyed the seclusion. Here, he can step away and shroud his mind in nothingness. Relaxation and tranquility are supplied in abundance which seems to be a rarity across their world.
The idea of preserving that is strong, but diplomacies could bear potential.
Kromium’s ultimate reason draws Tiphon from his confusion and whirling thoughts. A slow turn of his head steadies his gaze on the metal gleaming in the sunlight. ”Refuge?” Oddly, he is surprised by the notion and his interrogative tone betrays that. ”You’re searching for and pulling individuals into Tephra?” Their family wasn’t in Ischia, he noted, and so there appears to be a hunt to lure them to a reputable, and safe, land. ”I imagine if they wanted to be found, they would join you.” Tiphon’s voice is flat, not at all coarse as he continues to extract information and make sense of it all.
A scaled stallion – another bit of information tossed on the table between them – is disinclined toward an alliance. An interesting stance, admittedly, that piques Tiphon’s curiosity, but he hides his expression with a distant glance to the ocean. His forelock tumbles down his face like a waterfall, the gold catching the sunlight radiantly. ”Fortunately, this island is also a refuge to any and all. I do not know your family, although it sounds as though you may be related to Kerberos.” A tilt of his head implies the stallion that left them only moments prior, his exclamation still resonating. It forges a wall around Tiphon’s thoughts, his mind safely guarded as he mulls over the ulterior motives at hand. It could be nothing at all, he considers, or it could mean the sanctity of his home.
Inhaling a slow breath, he recalls what he had advised Wallace when she asked a similar question. A shrug ripples through Tiphon’s shoulders initially because he doesn’t have an extravagant answer. ”Survival,” he admits coolly, ”I can heal some symptoms of this awful plague, and honestly, that’s where my concerns lie at the moment. There are families here from different places. I’ve offered an escape. I will worry myself with organization once all of this subsides.” Their lives and health hold the utmost priority. Politics and diplomacy? With so much happening across Beqanna, Tiphon cannot fathom trekking out to forge alliances.
His family here is too important to set aside for such trivial things.
The idea of preserving that is strong, but diplomacies could bear potential.
Kromium’s ultimate reason draws Tiphon from his confusion and whirling thoughts. A slow turn of his head steadies his gaze on the metal gleaming in the sunlight. ”Refuge?” Oddly, he is surprised by the notion and his interrogative tone betrays that. ”You’re searching for and pulling individuals into Tephra?” Their family wasn’t in Ischia, he noted, and so there appears to be a hunt to lure them to a reputable, and safe, land. ”I imagine if they wanted to be found, they would join you.” Tiphon’s voice is flat, not at all coarse as he continues to extract information and make sense of it all.
A scaled stallion – another bit of information tossed on the table between them – is disinclined toward an alliance. An interesting stance, admittedly, that piques Tiphon’s curiosity, but he hides his expression with a distant glance to the ocean. His forelock tumbles down his face like a waterfall, the gold catching the sunlight radiantly. ”Fortunately, this island is also a refuge to any and all. I do not know your family, although it sounds as though you may be related to Kerberos.” A tilt of his head implies the stallion that left them only moments prior, his exclamation still resonating. It forges a wall around Tiphon’s thoughts, his mind safely guarded as he mulls over the ulterior motives at hand. It could be nothing at all, he considers, or it could mean the sanctity of his home.
Inhaling a slow breath, he recalls what he had advised Wallace when she asked a similar question. A shrug ripples through Tiphon’s shoulders initially because he doesn’t have an extravagant answer. ”Survival,” he admits coolly, ”I can heal some symptoms of this awful plague, and honestly, that’s where my concerns lie at the moment. There are families here from different places. I’ve offered an escape. I will worry myself with organization once all of this subsides.” Their lives and health hold the utmost priority. Politics and diplomacy? With so much happening across Beqanna, Tiphon cannot fathom trekking out to forge alliances.
His family here is too important to set aside for such trivial things.
TIPHON
STARLACE AND INFECTION
@[Kromium]