Nerine has not been his home for a long time - not since she left, and he strongly believes that her return wouldn’t change things now - and they haven’t honestly made the Icicles the same offer as once before; yet, he uses the northernmost moors as often as he needs to, and hasn’t been told off yet.
Then again not many would have the courage to walk up to a disguised dragon and tell them to shove it. Especially when they’re just grazing and the population is small enough to miss out on the stalks he takes. He very much believes Nev simply doesn’t really care.
He frequently wonders if anyone really cares, anyway. Nerine has never much involved herself with her territories, and while that pleased all parties involved right up until Taiga became the source of squabbling over land and titles with other kingdoms, it amazes him how little has been done about the absolute burning of one. He doesn’t know how to feel about it. Sad? Maybe. Offended? Just a little. Surprised? Hmm. Not really if he’s honest.
He shakes his head, getting rid of that train of thought entirely. What’s more important is finding out why Nerine has been so particularly silent lately. It’s unusual even for her, and although he doesn’t want to be involved with whatever issue the ladies currently have with whichever other kingdom these days, it does worry him to see the land so... barren. The howling north wind no longer sings of freedom, but of emptiness. These women used to rule an empire here, but it seems that the Amazons could not live forever, but only in name. A melancholic grimace crosses his face at the thought of what else he’ll see go down, what else he’ll lose, during his lifetime.
No wonder Brennen had retreated to Ischia with whomever was his lover this time.
(He’d laugh so hard if he knew it was his nephew though.)
As the night breaks into a cold spring dawn, the ice-scaled stallion in the north-Nerine point catches a few rays of sunlight; then, he pulls up the shadows that were given to him, hiding the shiny from the world. It doesn’t fit today to be shiny - none of it does. His patch of slightly unusual darkness might be noticed in the twilight of the meadow, but he doesn’t care about being noticed or not currently.
As the blue glows of the northern island make way for the orange sunlight, the male wanders leisurely towards the south. Outward calm and inner storm seemingly don’t match, but he’s used to it by now. His eyes betray him however, the colors swirling, trying to compete for the best-fitting color to his numerous, alternating feelings for today.
He stops when he finally notices someone else - Neverwhere - and a little shadow at her side.
She’s not looking at the horse-shaped shadow approaching her, not for the moment. He studies her as she seems to study the colt, and almost snorts when she calls her kid to her. She sounds impatient, though for what, he doesn’t know.
He’s waited long enough to come nearer. He approaches, dropping the cloak of darkness enough not to blind her (again, hehe), but that he is still recognizable. ”Never, where in the world did you get that?”
It must have been longer than he’d thought since he’d seen her in the Field. Has she lost her mind? No - she looks a little broken, but the fire in her eyes is still burning. But she has lost something, he thinks as he studies her. He’s taken in enough lost ladies in his time to know the look of someone who’s lost a part of herself. ”Lost your quills, Porcupine?” he frowns.
Then again not many would have the courage to walk up to a disguised dragon and tell them to shove it. Especially when they’re just grazing and the population is small enough to miss out on the stalks he takes. He very much believes Nev simply doesn’t really care.
He frequently wonders if anyone really cares, anyway. Nerine has never much involved herself with her territories, and while that pleased all parties involved right up until Taiga became the source of squabbling over land and titles with other kingdoms, it amazes him how little has been done about the absolute burning of one. He doesn’t know how to feel about it. Sad? Maybe. Offended? Just a little. Surprised? Hmm. Not really if he’s honest.
He shakes his head, getting rid of that train of thought entirely. What’s more important is finding out why Nerine has been so particularly silent lately. It’s unusual even for her, and although he doesn’t want to be involved with whatever issue the ladies currently have with whichever other kingdom these days, it does worry him to see the land so... barren. The howling north wind no longer sings of freedom, but of emptiness. These women used to rule an empire here, but it seems that the Amazons could not live forever, but only in name. A melancholic grimace crosses his face at the thought of what else he’ll see go down, what else he’ll lose, during his lifetime.
No wonder Brennen had retreated to Ischia with whomever was his lover this time.
(He’d laugh so hard if he knew it was his nephew though.)
As the night breaks into a cold spring dawn, the ice-scaled stallion in the north-Nerine point catches a few rays of sunlight; then, he pulls up the shadows that were given to him, hiding the shiny from the world. It doesn’t fit today to be shiny - none of it does. His patch of slightly unusual darkness might be noticed in the twilight of the meadow, but he doesn’t care about being noticed or not currently.
As the blue glows of the northern island make way for the orange sunlight, the male wanders leisurely towards the south. Outward calm and inner storm seemingly don’t match, but he’s used to it by now. His eyes betray him however, the colors swirling, trying to compete for the best-fitting color to his numerous, alternating feelings for today.
He stops when he finally notices someone else - Neverwhere - and a little shadow at her side.
She’s not looking at the horse-shaped shadow approaching her, not for the moment. He studies her as she seems to study the colt, and almost snorts when she calls her kid to her. She sounds impatient, though for what, he doesn’t know.
He’s waited long enough to come nearer. He approaches, dropping the cloak of darkness enough not to blind her (again, hehe), but that he is still recognizable. ”Never, where in the world did you get that?”
It must have been longer than he’d thought since he’d seen her in the Field. Has she lost her mind? No - she looks a little broken, but the fire in her eyes is still burning. But she has lost something, he thinks as he studies her. He’s taken in enough lost ladies in his time to know the look of someone who’s lost a part of herself. ”Lost your quills, Porcupine?” he frowns.
nothing burns like the cold
Leilan
@[Neverwhere]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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