11-01-2015, 09:26 PM
 Like a thorn to the holy ones The young stag's eyes widened ever so slightly at the use of tenderfoot. the older stag read the thoughts behind his eyes well for him to guess he called him old in the safety of his thoughts. The older sandy stag would be fun to jest with, a smirk played on his lips but momentarily. As the old one jumped right to the questions again. Maybe it was his pirate of a father, always taking the roundabout approach to gather his information living the game that was forming alliances and dealing with challenges. His father lived for it, so a straight forward approach hit him blindside at times. A home? What do I truly need? He was young, his needs had never been the priority. So what did he need? He needed to be able speak his mind, he would sit back and go along with things he was against. He needed someone to push him, challenge him as his father had. The young stag's eyes were soft in thought. For a moment he was a pirate on land, unsure of his footing and cursing his sea legs to behave under still ground. He shook his head knocking the thoughts of being unsure out of his head. His stability came from his parents, and the his stability was the unstable, being on the move. Now that he was on more steady ground he might as well be at sea. It was unusual for him. My needs in a home? Opportunity, challenge, kinship, ...possibly a mentor it the right elder exists. It isn't that the blood stallion had a mask up, or that he was pretending his confidence was real, like a mask. He was confident, strong willed even, but he simply had never thought about what life would be like once he found himself a new place. He was strong. He knew himself well. His ears perked back to Magnus, curious as to what the stag would say next. The game was direct, yet just quippy enough to tickle his fancy. Why do you ask? Do you offer something that fits? ooc: sorry, my HTML code got all wonky. Hopefully it is easier to tell Italics (thoughts) and bold (spoken) now. The Puppet Master: Nymphetamine They see him: Blood Bay Ghosts within: Alkah-teke x Arabian They Run From Him at: 16.2 He’s made it this far: 2 years Remember him by: He will always be a bit of a wander, and if he does settle down to one place or with one fae it will be later in life. He is sly and outgoing, and cares very much about family and keeping his word. He doesn't remember much of his family, but knows the fact he made it here to,well he isn't quite sure where here is, because of the sacrifice his parents made. Nymphetamine is the some of a pirate, if you will. The kind of horse that wanders into luck and fortune and seems to know the minute mischief is in the air. His father wasn't one to settle down either- until he met his mother. A fierce tongued fae with a dark heart, she understood and maybe even loved his father's distant, detached ways. Nymphetamine was very much a mix of his parents, fierce tongued and independent with a lucky streak to pull him through during rough times--or maybe stir things up. Cold was my soul Untold was the pain I faced when you left me A rose in the rain.... So I swore to the razor That never, enchained Would your dark nails of faith Be pushed through my veins again Bared on your tomb I'm a prayer for your loneliness And would you ever soon Come above onto me? For once upon a time On the binds of your lowliness I could always find the slot for your sacred key Six feet deep is the incision In my heart, that barless prison Discoulours all with tunnel vision Sunsetter... Nymphetamine HTML Copyright To Tay. |