"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
With the coming of spring brining warmer days to the tropical island, he found himself basking away on the sandy beach. The island life he found to be a simple and peaceful one. It was much more different than what he recalled from his earlier days where the brotherhood had once been. Those days had been cold ones and seemed to be filled with hardship. Now it seemed those days had never existed.
Viserion made himself easily at home in Ischia. He found himself in a simple routine the last couple of months of just eating and sleeping. The purpose of coming to this place to be part of the brotherhood faded away after the tournament with Nerine. He found himself rather enjoying the newly warm days instead of practicing battle tactics to keep himself in good shape. In fact, he might have even gotten a little fatter than he intended by overeating.
He carried little for such things right now though. Battle tactics and what not were the least of his worries. All he wanted was a little sunshine, a good breeze, and maybe a bite here and there to eat when he needed it.
“The kingdom-life is too good here,” he says to himself aloud as he kicks back onto the sandy shore on this mid-afternoon.
Your beauty is beyond compare - oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
The roan stallion frequents the mainland about as often as his homeland, Ischia, these days. Not that he doesn’t like the place; but he knows that his mind will definitely be going places he doesn’t want to visit, as soon as he sits still for longer than a single day. Besides, there’s just not many ladies living in Ischia nowadays, and the ones that do aren’t free game as far as he is concerned. Or well, game - but you get the gist.
It’s why the beach of all places in Ischia, is where the gold-rimmed hybrid can be found, because he awaits the lower tide or, if he’s fed up with waiting and needs to go out, swims the distance regardless of the current.
But today someone is enjoying the sun, and when his stocky, dripping frame scrambled onto the sand, since today’s venture was fruitless in terms of meeting new horses, he can’t help but catch the man’s words to himself. He snorts, chuckling. ”I can see that it is, brother. You’re gaining weight.” he points out with a mischievous twinkle in his eye. He’s quite sure he’s seen the other stallion’s face about before, or at least caught his scent, though they never met officially. And even if he hadn’t caught his scent before, the scaled stallion’s words made his tie to the island pretty clear.
"dear crow, your voice is right enough; but where are your wits?"
there's something here that doesn't make sense
let's go and poke it with a stick
@[Viserion]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
08-13-2018, 05:07 PM (This post was last modified: 08-13-2018, 05:08 PM by Viserion.)
There had barely been anytime to kick back and relax before he was being rudely interrupted. He can hear the laughter in the other stallion’s voice as he makes a comment about the weight he has gain. Viserion snorts in distaste at the comment. He opens his eyes to look at the other stallion, a dripping wet mess for sure. “At least I’m not a dripping wet rat like you,” he says back with clear indication he doesn’t care if the comment starts a fight. However, he pushes the comment and feelings aside.
Viserion finally realizes he isn’t sure if he has even seen this other stallion before. The question was he even part of this kingdom? The black and vermillion colored stallion moves from his comfortable position—which he definitely feels the need to make clear to the other stallion that he didn’t even get a chance to relax—and moves onto his hooves. Honey-hazel eyes peer at the silvery bay roan for a moment. His nostrils flare, smelling if the scent clung long enough to the stranger to mark him as a resident. Unfortunately, and clearly to his annoyance, it did make him part of this kingdom.
“It isn’t my fault we are simply lazily away here,” he says without care because he has felt there was too much of lull within the brotherhood as soon as the tournament had ended. It seemed their own leader (someone who he had admired based on his father’s stories) had disappeared. “There is too much to offer here to not enjoy,” he says with a laugh. The food and sun were surely abundant here during the summertime.
He then realizes he has forgotten his manners, almost as he had forgotten he came here to be a solider and instead gained weight. “I’m Viserion by the way. I assume you live here as well, wet rat?” He adds the nickname just for kicks, though his tone rings with humor and nothing threatening unless the other brother was going to say something about his weight again.
Friendship dies and true love lies Night will fall and the dark will rise
Oh dear fairies, what was he slow. Or is it just himself being pumped up, recklessly running around the kingdom? Leilan shakes his fur, deliberately close to the other stallion. ”My wetness is easier overcome than your fatness, brother.” he retorts.
The black scaled stallion stands up - slowly, ever so slowly. The roan snorts, giving the slow man time to smell him with a grin on his face. However, he does not exactly like the following comment, that it’s not his fault. So Leilan snorts. ”What kind of warrior are you then? Not worthy the title I would think, if you can’t bring it to yourself to keep in shape at least a little when your leader’s not looking at you directly all the time.” he retorts. Sincerly - earning a rank meant at least living up to it. What sort of brotherhood were they if they let just about anyone in their ranks, hmm?
Viserion, hmm. ”Leilan.” Then he grins. ”Pretty pair of fake warriors we make, a fat cat and a wet rat. You know what? Let’s mock on the plains sometime soon. You know - get into shape.” he grins, waiting for an answer to the invitation. He has no problems with the guy (that he knows of), although Viserion might not take too well on the weight jokes. But they were so easy; the only thing to make him stop was to either win a fight or otherwise get into shape again - that’s the only the roan would give the scaled one.
the battle's won, but the child is lost
@[Viserion]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
Viserion snorts at the silver bay roan stallion again. There was nothing more annoying than what his brother in arms had said, especially since it was true. The dragon boy never liked to be the one that was slacking, but maybe, just maybe he had let himself go too far.
“I’m definitely not the lazy type,” he says boldly, feeling accused for even being thought of not worthy of a title to the brotherhood. Viserion didn’t come to Ischia to be something less than a brother to the brotherhood. His father surely would be disappointed where he is now, after all his father had been a solider and climbed his way up the ranks to by hand of two kings. It was his own fault for letting himself fall into such a lazy slumber. But, how could you not? Ischia was just begging for you to enjoy the sandy beach and tropical weather.
The boy takes the scolding, even if it isn’t meant to be a lecture. Viserion is still young, and without the guiding of his father the last two years of his teenage life it was too easy to sway into his own things without thinking of the consequences. He may not be looking like a warrior now, but Viserion is more than what he looks. The boy knows perhaps more about battle and fighting tactics than others might when growing up. He has performed countless practices with his father than he can remember.
Viserion doesn’t feel the need to say anything in regards to keeping in shape when their leader isn’t around. There was no winning with words. He sure the expression of defeat on his face gives that away to his new acquaintance. How pleased I’m sure he will be, he thinks with revulsion.
“Well, Leilan,” he says with a boyish grin instantly spreading ear to ear at hearing the idea, “I cannot pass up a good opportunity to make you shut up.” He lets out soft laugh. If his newly found brother was going to make jokes about his weight, then Viserion knew he would have to show him he wasn’t the fat cat he has made him out to be. “I accept your challenge, brother.”
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