05-19-2020, 12:27 PM
He doesn’t honestly visit the Field that often any more - at least not as much as he did in the beginning, the laying of a new foundation on the Isle.
But the foundation is there. There are enough on the Isle to form a tiny army if needed; there are enough to execute another little excursion, and yet he is here, in the Field. Quite on accident, one might say, but it can never hurt to look. New meat would be welcome, even if just to strengthen morale, add to their numbers.
It’s with that in mind that he decides to actually land, instead of simply fly past. He retracts his ice-tipped silver wings to his sides, his claws return to their hoof-bearing state and his tail swishes once to release any remaining ice spikes; exchanging one body for another, he still keeps the wings. They’re a newly thing and he likes them, so who’s to keep him from having them most of the time? They’re practical, he thinks.
When another stallion comes into view, the scaled roan trots toward him - he sees no others approaching yet, and there’s something about the way he moves around that makes Leilan believe he is not that green - more of the type of horse he’d rather gather in the north, if he’s willing. Plus side, now that it’s spring, it’ll be a long enough time to get used to the temperature before winter truly strikes it’s love child.
The draft pulls himself to a stop at a greeting distance, snorting once to get his attention and following up with a question. ”Oy there. Would you be looking for a new beginning, perhaps?” Pretty obviously since he’s wandering in the Field, but there is the odd chance it is a recruiter, after all.
But the foundation is there. There are enough on the Isle to form a tiny army if needed; there are enough to execute another little excursion, and yet he is here, in the Field. Quite on accident, one might say, but it can never hurt to look. New meat would be welcome, even if just to strengthen morale, add to their numbers.
It’s with that in mind that he decides to actually land, instead of simply fly past. He retracts his ice-tipped silver wings to his sides, his claws return to their hoof-bearing state and his tail swishes once to release any remaining ice spikes; exchanging one body for another, he still keeps the wings. They’re a newly thing and he likes them, so who’s to keep him from having them most of the time? They’re practical, he thinks.
When another stallion comes into view, the scaled roan trots toward him - he sees no others approaching yet, and there’s something about the way he moves around that makes Leilan believe he is not that green - more of the type of horse he’d rather gather in the north, if he’s willing. Plus side, now that it’s spring, it’ll be a long enough time to get used to the temperature before winter truly strikes it’s love child.
The draft pulls himself to a stop at a greeting distance, snorting once to get his attention and following up with a question. ”Oy there. Would you be looking for a new beginning, perhaps?” Pretty obviously since he’s wandering in the Field, but there is the odd chance it is a recruiter, after all.
nothing burns like the cold
Leilan
Pick me pls @[Mesec]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
| 