10-17-2019, 12:29 PM
Aodhán
little fire
All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost
Time passed, and they all tried to move on with their lives. Noah didn’t come to visit him as he’d hoped and feared, and the spotted baroque is not sure whether that is something he likes or dislikes about her. Norof himself, truth be told. Whether it is for the best not to meet, or if that only made it worse, he couldn’t tell anyone either.
He’s met, and seen pass by, several visitors in the meantime, but none seemed willing to stay for good and it plagues him. His cousin didn’t seem interested in settling at all and he didn’t blame her, and the mare in the field that he met hadn’t given a very definite answer as of yet. As such, he only knows for certain that he sort-of lives here, though perhaps illegally, and that Noah is probably around and not talking to him, much like she did before. Only this time there is a valid, awkward reason.
So it looks to him that everything he’d done in the meantime was pretty useless. He’d drawn her out with a violent act, and then they’d gone back to the way things were on a bad note.
He spent half or more of his time away from what was supposed to be home. Ischia being the closest land he could set hoof on without getting some sort of disapproving look (Castile thought even worse of him than Noah, he is quite certain), he spent most time on the beaches there. It was also Eva’s homeland, which perhaps had drawn him there even more. Meeting Aquaria certainly had been interesting as well, though in a different way, obviously.
Lately some other mare was appointed to lead there now though. Again, it feels like the place he picked for his home is changing, and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t like that idea. It’s much like when the quiet Taiga became a pawn in some political pony’s hoofs - he’s not staying there.
That means that he is still here, in the Pampas, trying not to think about life and mistakes. It’s probably best to look forward; he can’t change the past. And probably shouldn’t if he could.
He could have been a regular snow owl if the colour of his spots hadn’t given him away - or the fact that he was up at daylight.
The bird of prey lands a few paces away from the mother and child, blinking once at the roan and then closes his eyes, knowing that if she wanted to talk to him specifically, she would have called his name. But at least she’d know he was around now and then, he figures.
He’s met, and seen pass by, several visitors in the meantime, but none seemed willing to stay for good and it plagues him. His cousin didn’t seem interested in settling at all and he didn’t blame her, and the mare in the field that he met hadn’t given a very definite answer as of yet. As such, he only knows for certain that he sort-of lives here, though perhaps illegally, and that Noah is probably around and not talking to him, much like she did before. Only this time there is a valid, awkward reason.
So it looks to him that everything he’d done in the meantime was pretty useless. He’d drawn her out with a violent act, and then they’d gone back to the way things were on a bad note.
He spent half or more of his time away from what was supposed to be home. Ischia being the closest land he could set hoof on without getting some sort of disapproving look (Castile thought even worse of him than Noah, he is quite certain), he spent most time on the beaches there. It was also Eva’s homeland, which perhaps had drawn him there even more. Meeting Aquaria certainly had been interesting as well, though in a different way, obviously.
Lately some other mare was appointed to lead there now though. Again, it feels like the place he picked for his home is changing, and he’s pretty sure he doesn’t like that idea. It’s much like when the quiet Taiga became a pawn in some political pony’s hoofs - he’s not staying there.
That means that he is still here, in the Pampas, trying not to think about life and mistakes. It’s probably best to look forward; he can’t change the past. And probably shouldn’t if he could.
He could have been a regular snow owl if the colour of his spots hadn’t given him away - or the fact that he was up at daylight.
The bird of prey lands a few paces away from the mother and child, blinking once at the roan and then closes his eyes, knowing that if she wanted to talk to him specifically, she would have called his name. But at least she’d know he was around now and then, he figures.
@[Noah] Whoah I am so late. Oh well