01-02-2021, 03:10 PM
It feels like forever until she answers. In that stretched moment of silence he knows perfectly well that it was wrong to ask so many questions at once, and personal ones at that, but he also knows he couldn’t have stopped himself if he had truly wanted to. He expects a look, but none follows; he expects to be turned down, but she stays anyway. He expects a stern word but all she does is deny him one answer and give him many, and during her speech he releases a long breath he hadn’t known he was holding.
Troy is a name that doesn’t ring a bell with the gold-marked roan colt either, but no matter how much he wants to ask more about what it is like, the mare tells him he’s not old enough for those stories (hopefully she just meant the scars, he thinks). A form of politeness has awakened in him though, so he decides he could inform her about some things first. ”Yeah, Beqanna is what they call this. All the lands together I mean. We’re in the Field now, and I live in Taiga with my mom and sis and my brothers. Most of them anyway. Nash lives with my Da on the frozen island.” He grins a bit, boyishly, until he remembers she wouldn’t know anything yet, just like he didn’t know anything yet when she mentioned Troy. ”Taiga is a redwood forest. A bit chilly sometimes because of the sea mist, but a perfect place for hide and seek. And for foraging too. You can come visit if you want.” he offers in one breath, knowing that that is what Mama would have done. Besides, he would like an excuse to talk to her again and -again- ask her about the Troy and the scars.
She asks a question that he is pretty certain that he might actually be too young for - or just too bewildered by the rest of the world. He sticks out a tongue. A herd? Full of girls? Why would he want that? ”I’d rather travel and learn of Beqanna’s history and all the magic,” he admits to the older lady - something he has once or twice admitted to his mom, too, but otherwise not yet acted upon. Lilliana had said that she would like to reinvent the ranks, but also that he didn’t need to have one at his age just yet. That duality had made him hesitant to pick anything at all, though he also trusts his mother to come up with whatever she thought fitting. After all, she hadn’t disappointed so far, and it was clear to him that, aside from the wanderlust, he did take after her more. Or, at least, so he thought based on what little he knew of his father - which was in fact far less than he’d like to admit. The dragon king had always seemed a bit distraught to Oren, and the scaled man had more than once let on that he had lived and experienced more than he perhaps should have. Oren, hardly of age, hadn’t had much time to think that through yet. Perhaps some day he would understand a little more - for now, all he knew is that he knew too little of his father’s childhood to know if he was anything like him. But his mother and her stories, well - those he knew and understood very well.
Except her tendency to call Taiga cold, of course. Neither Oren nor Rosey had ever had trouble with that.
Troy is a name that doesn’t ring a bell with the gold-marked roan colt either, but no matter how much he wants to ask more about what it is like, the mare tells him he’s not old enough for those stories (hopefully she just meant the scars, he thinks). A form of politeness has awakened in him though, so he decides he could inform her about some things first. ”Yeah, Beqanna is what they call this. All the lands together I mean. We’re in the Field now, and I live in Taiga with my mom and sis and my brothers. Most of them anyway. Nash lives with my Da on the frozen island.” He grins a bit, boyishly, until he remembers she wouldn’t know anything yet, just like he didn’t know anything yet when she mentioned Troy. ”Taiga is a redwood forest. A bit chilly sometimes because of the sea mist, but a perfect place for hide and seek. And for foraging too. You can come visit if you want.” he offers in one breath, knowing that that is what Mama would have done. Besides, he would like an excuse to talk to her again and -again- ask her about the Troy and the scars.
She asks a question that he is pretty certain that he might actually be too young for - or just too bewildered by the rest of the world. He sticks out a tongue. A herd? Full of girls? Why would he want that? ”I’d rather travel and learn of Beqanna’s history and all the magic,” he admits to the older lady - something he has once or twice admitted to his mom, too, but otherwise not yet acted upon. Lilliana had said that she would like to reinvent the ranks, but also that he didn’t need to have one at his age just yet. That duality had made him hesitant to pick anything at all, though he also trusts his mother to come up with whatever she thought fitting. After all, she hadn’t disappointed so far, and it was clear to him that, aside from the wanderlust, he did take after her more. Or, at least, so he thought based on what little he knew of his father - which was in fact far less than he’d like to admit. The dragon king had always seemed a bit distraught to Oren, and the scaled man had more than once let on that he had lived and experienced more than he perhaps should have. Oren, hardly of age, hadn’t had much time to think that through yet. Perhaps some day he would understand a little more - for now, all he knew is that he knew too little of his father’s childhood to know if he was anything like him. But his mother and her stories, well - those he knew and understood very well.
Except her tendency to call Taiga cold, of course. Neither Oren nor Rosey had ever had trouble with that.
Oren
I'll follow you when the stars go blue
@[Andromake]