04-07-2019, 08:17 PM
With his parents and younger sister returned, all is right with Pteron’s world. The tobiano no longer watches the southern horizon in anticipation of their arrival. He’d not even realized how much he’d done it until he’d found himself with time to spare at the end of the day. He spends some of that time with his mother and younger sister, but Marni is still very young and Lepis grows more short-tempered the wider her belly gets. He follows his father sometimes too, learning what he can. Other times – like this afternoon – he spends alone, soaring across the hilly kingdom.
His habit is to fly until he sees something interesting that would be best explored on foot, and then descend and do so. Today is no different, though what catches his attention is not a deep canyon or an oddly shaped tree, but rather an apricot filly with a pair of familiar horns. Pteron banks sharply, changing the angle of his flight so that he can land atop of a spire of stone that he’d first meant to soar over.
“Wander!” He calls down to her, and then: “Wait there!”
He doubts that she’d have the sudden urge to climb up the rock face toward him, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. He had not folded his wings when he’d landed, and he now spreads them wide once more, jumping from the spire towards the earth. He glides to an elegant stop a few yards from Wander, grinning proudly at the perfect execution. He’d been far more clumsy the last time they’d met, and he humors the sudden desire to show off a bit.
“What brings you to Loess?” Asks the young stallion. He shakes his head a bit as he says it, clearing his olive green gaze of his flyway mane. Wander is still familiar – they’d spent too much time together as young children to be anything but – but she is also different in a myriad of ways. Taller (though still shorter than he, as she’d always been), and with a pair of horns that are no longer long and slender. They’re curling now and becoming ridged in an intriguing way, so he steps closer to touch them them with a curious muzzle.
“These are looking cool,” Pteron tells her as he draws back to meet her gaze with a smile. “Maybe they’ll be bigger than your Dad’s someday. ”
@[Wander]
His habit is to fly until he sees something interesting that would be best explored on foot, and then descend and do so. Today is no different, though what catches his attention is not a deep canyon or an oddly shaped tree, but rather an apricot filly with a pair of familiar horns. Pteron banks sharply, changing the angle of his flight so that he can land atop of a spire of stone that he’d first meant to soar over.
“Wander!” He calls down to her, and then: “Wait there!”
He doubts that she’d have the sudden urge to climb up the rock face toward him, but it’s better to be safe than sorry. He had not folded his wings when he’d landed, and he now spreads them wide once more, jumping from the spire towards the earth. He glides to an elegant stop a few yards from Wander, grinning proudly at the perfect execution. He’d been far more clumsy the last time they’d met, and he humors the sudden desire to show off a bit.
“What brings you to Loess?” Asks the young stallion. He shakes his head a bit as he says it, clearing his olive green gaze of his flyway mane. Wander is still familiar – they’d spent too much time together as young children to be anything but – but she is also different in a myriad of ways. Taller (though still shorter than he, as she’d always been), and with a pair of horns that are no longer long and slender. They’re curling now and becoming ridged in an intriguing way, so he steps closer to touch them them with a curious muzzle.
“These are looking cool,” Pteron tells her as he draws back to meet her gaze with a smile. “Maybe they’ll be bigger than your Dad’s someday. ”
@[Wander]