[open] we stand still to see where it comes down | mazikeen + anyone

[Nashua]

Nashua's smile broadens to an easy grin and his blazed head nods in greeting (again) to the horned mare. Despite all the brotherly teasing, Mazikeen joins in and it makes Nash like her all the more. He's always been a stallion who wasted little time on the formalities - even less where it concerned family - and the striped pegasus immediately takes to the way that @[Mazikeen] finds her footing within their little group.

She's just met him - just as he only just met Tiercel - and yet they all join in on the easy banter together, almost like they have done it before.

The striped stallion studies @[Tiercel] as his half-brother greets him.

Of all the fraternal siblings that he has come across, this one is the one that reminds him most of Wolfbane. The gold-and-the-blue stirs back a memory from his childhood and he banishes it. This is also the brother that he knows the least about and Nash decides that if given the chance, he'd like to learn more about the nomadic lifestyle that had claimed Tiercel for so many years. "Likewise," the younger stallion reiterates with his head inclining towards the dun, with no sign of reluctance or hesitance showing on his pale face.

(There is a knot in his gut that belies how the younger pegasus truly feels.)

One copper ear flicks towards Mazikeen and her suggestion of a 'little brotherly competition'. Something sparks behind his green eyes. "Well, that means the ice maze is out." Nash joins in on the comment that Tiercel gives, "I think @[Gale] would enjoy his reflection too much." Nash's speckled wings - (if Nash is vain about anything, it is those wings of his) - settle against his dark sides and he glances between the trio. "Leilan is hosting a race," the Hersir adds and tries to gauge a reaction from his brothers and Mazikeen.

When Tiercel looks away from Nashua and towards the landscape of the Isle, the gold-striped stallion takes the opportunity to cloak his feathers with his invisibility. "Deal," Nash says a little boldly (and probably too eagerly but he's always enjoyed a good contest). "But if an old-fashioned race doesn't tempt you, there is also a competition for balance." He takes a moment to explain that there is a tree - a narrow pine felled from a summer storm - that had been placed over a creek and that the winner had to make it from one side to the other without falling in.

(There was also the added bonus that whoever did manage to win, the nickname 'twinkle hooves' seemed fitting for the victor.)

NASHUA