wisdom-creation-guidance
Strange magic was, especially for the Dale's eccentric roan stallion. For some time he had allowed his talents to lay dormant, and like unused muscles they had become dull. This lasted years, until the other day in the adoption den, he had seen need to use them. He had never not used them for so long, so the practice had strained him, made his nose trickle with blood. He knew from then on he could not allow his talents to lay at rest in such a way, and he pledged he would not. Perhaps that was why even in the presence of other magicians, he would previously not have sensed much from them. Such was not the case now. Since then, he felt the familiar tickle he had not noticed the absence of...had returned.
He is minding his own when he feels it trickle into the Dale. That was uncommon for his home, and at once he ends his grazing and sets off. Along the way he hears a call, and this perplexes him even more, it was entirely odd for someone to come calling to them in such a way. Normally his travels would be slow, relaxed, perhaps in a sense they still are because when he arrives several others are already there. He is glad that both Ramiel and Elysteria are among those gathered, worried as he spots Cirri standing in their midst. Before he can do so himself, Elysteria slides between the new comer and the girl, for that he is ever grateful. The feeling is almost a buzzing now to his insides, he knows something is using magic here and it is not his kingdom mates.
He looks sternly at the dappled male, coming to stand next to his king. "Salutations sir, I am Weir. What is it the Dale could do for a Magician I wonder?" An eyebrow arches over one of his amber colored eyes, the situation had just become more curious. Why would a magician need to holler in such a way? Why would he need to holler at all? Something was largely at miss, he was one to find out, but not so hasty. The caller had not done harm to them yet, nor did Weir know his intentions, but he was sure that with Ramiel and Ely they could figure it out. The tension among them was palpable, he was obviously not the only one to smell something off about this horse. Let him speak though of course, innocent until proven guilty.
WEIR
To bend another's energy, your own spirit must be unbendable