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i'll wait for you but i can't wait forever - Printable Version

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i'll wait for you but i can't wait forever - Merrik - 02-08-2016

MERRIK & TYRINN

”Wait for me!” shouts the overo colt, ”Momma said you have to go slow for me!”. His red sides expand and contract rapidly as he forces himself into a gallop to close the space between himself and his brother.

”No, you hurry up!” replies the roan colt ahead of him, who is flapping his batlike wings with every stride and gliding a few extra feet. It seems impossible for the earthbound colt to catch up, but with a snort of determination, he charges ahead and draws even with his brother.

”Gotcha!” yells Tyrinn excitedly, a moment before he trips on the uneven ground and goes tumbling into Merrik sides. There is a chorus of frustrated squeals and then a pile of kicking legs and wings. Eventually, the pair untangle themselves and lay panting on the ground.

”That cloud looks like a bear,” says Merrik after he catches his breath. His twin mumbles in agreement, and the two colts spent the next ten minutes pointing out shapes in the sky with their pale hooves. Despite their earlier race, the boys are clearly close. Enough inspection would reveal a familial resemblance in the boy’s faces and figures despite the stark contrast of their blue and red coats.

Their father had sent them to the Playground, telling the boys that their mother would be back by nightfall. With the sun still high in the sky upon their arrival, the rambunctious, three-month-old colts had immediately decided that the Playground was far too boring of a place to spend the day. They’d spent the afternoon wandering in the Forest, and had fallen asleep curled together under a canopy of birch trees. The light of the morning sun had awakened them.

They spent several days searching in vain for either of their parents, and eventually came to the decision that they were probably captured by brigands or pirates or something equally exciting. They are too young to feel abandoned, and a kindly Fairy had taken pity on them, and shared the magics used to keep the poor souls dropped at the Den alive and well.

The two boys are happy with their adventurous existence,and having heard the Field referred as the “starting place of new dreams” had chosen it to be their next destination. The summer grass that they lounge on is dotted with wildflowers, the sun is warm on their mottled coats, and their bellies are full.

What could possibly go wrong?

RE: i'll wait for you but i can't wait forever - Rhonan - 02-09-2016

my shadow tilts its head at me,

spirits in the dark are waiting.

The Valley is terribly quiet. So much so that Rhonan probably spends at least as much time in the field as he does the Valley anymore, searching for new recruits. It still makes him laugh, honestly. Rhonan, the least loyal and useful member of the Valley, was the only one recruiting. Either there was something wrong with him, or there was something wrong with everyone else. Or both.

Either way though, he’s here, lingering on the edge of the field and watching the horses the come and go. So far, no one has really caught his attention, though he’s just about to pick the nearest stranger (because really, what’s he got to lose?), when he hears two voices, and looks over to see two young boys pointing upward with their hooves.

Different. Well, why not? Rhonan’s bored of sitting around, and worst case, he can make sure the two end up somewhere safe. Ha, safe. He’s inviting them to the Valley. Which to be fair is very safe for it’s members, and not very safe for anyone who pisses them off. Great group of horses to have as your friends though.

Rhonan wanders over to the boys, resisting the urge to play with his own shadow. He does wear his usual coat of black though, covering up his pretty pretty princess white and gold look. One has to look closely to realize his coat is not really hair at all, but a collection of shadows pulled together to look like a horses’ coat. He’s gotten really good at this particular illusion.

“What’re you doing?” he asks the boys, tossing his head toward the clouds, forelock landing haphazardly over his face as he does so. He makes no move to fix this problem, leaving the black locks over his muddy brown eyes with their strange, orange ring. “I’m Rhonan,” he adds, after a pause that’s just a few seconds too long. But then again, he’s no good with pleasantries.

rhonan.