06-21-2017, 05:36 AM
OOC: The post said it closes June 21, but not included with time. I'm not sure if it means the 21st is included or not, so I'm going ahead and post my second entry, but if it means it closed by the beginning of today I understand it completely if it's left out 
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Life hadn’t been kind to him, or had he himself to blame?
When the magic had disappeared from the lands, it had taken his sight too. Sight a djinn had given him, upon him wishing for it. Never had he thought that his thoughtless mumble would have such impact on his life. Brynmor had grown accustomed to seeing, till the point he now struggled through life.
Ever since he had lost Roan at the base of the Mountain, he hadn’t seen a familiar face. Oh the irony in that. Of course he couldn’t see a familiar face while he lacked sight, but neither had Brynmor met someone familiar. He had thinned, both due to slight famine as the loss of muscles, which was got masked by his already lengthening winter coat. Once a Tundra resident, always a Tundra resident.
He missed the Tundra dearly. From the endless snow to the brotherhood. Ever since Hurricane had brought him home – because the Tundra still was that – he hadn’t felt lonely anymore. And now, that was exactly what he was. Perhaps this party would fix all that, but at the same time Brynmor didn’t want to get his hopes up too high.
His movements are insecure, front hooves feeling the ground first before he dares to put some weight on his leg. He’s slow. Slower than he was before. Even in the Chamber he didn’t had any trouble navigating around. Always careful and measuring, but never insecure or hesitant. Brynmor’s ears flick around nervously, there simply were too many horses around. Sounds and smells hit him from all sides, how was he ever going to find the happy birthday person?
Or somebody he knew for that matter. Brynmor had never realised how very alone one could feel in such a big crowd. It scares him, terribly. It had taken much effort to get himself here – though the sounds and smells lead him towards the location like the yellow stone brick road. And now, was it all for nothing?
No, not for nothing. He was here to celebrate. His tongue slips past his lips, wetting them before clearing his throat. ”Happy birthday Beqanna!” His voice is hoarse and somewhat raw, but genuine. His lips even curl up a little, but his eyes are not able to meet the gaze of Beqanna. Hopefully his voice had carried out the message warm and clear, and hopefully she would be able to see through his wrecked appearance.
.There's none so blind as those who will not listen.
Life hadn’t been kind to him, or had he himself to blame?
When the magic had disappeared from the lands, it had taken his sight too. Sight a djinn had given him, upon him wishing for it. Never had he thought that his thoughtless mumble would have such impact on his life. Brynmor had grown accustomed to seeing, till the point he now struggled through life.
Ever since he had lost Roan at the base of the Mountain, he hadn’t seen a familiar face. Oh the irony in that. Of course he couldn’t see a familiar face while he lacked sight, but neither had Brynmor met someone familiar. He had thinned, both due to slight famine as the loss of muscles, which was got masked by his already lengthening winter coat. Once a Tundra resident, always a Tundra resident.
He missed the Tundra dearly. From the endless snow to the brotherhood. Ever since Hurricane had brought him home – because the Tundra still was that – he hadn’t felt lonely anymore. And now, that was exactly what he was. Perhaps this party would fix all that, but at the same time Brynmor didn’t want to get his hopes up too high.
His movements are insecure, front hooves feeling the ground first before he dares to put some weight on his leg. He’s slow. Slower than he was before. Even in the Chamber he didn’t had any trouble navigating around. Always careful and measuring, but never insecure or hesitant. Brynmor’s ears flick around nervously, there simply were too many horses around. Sounds and smells hit him from all sides, how was he ever going to find the happy birthday person?
Or somebody he knew for that matter. Brynmor had never realised how very alone one could feel in such a big crowd. It scares him, terribly. It had taken much effort to get himself here – though the sounds and smells lead him towards the location like the yellow stone brick road. And now, was it all for nothing?
No, not for nothing. He was here to celebrate. His tongue slips past his lips, wetting them before clearing his throat. ”Happy birthday Beqanna!” His voice is hoarse and somewhat raw, but genuine. His lips even curl up a little, but his eyes are not able to meet the gaze of Beqanna. Hopefully his voice had carried out the message warm and clear, and hopefully she would be able to see through his wrecked appearance.
BRYNMOR
