11-15-2015, 01:03 AM
The air in the highest reaches of the sky is crisp and cold, a refreshing chill that ruffles the feathers of his outstretched wings and knots his pale mane into tangles. His goal today is the field. The Tundra needs members, and for that to happen, it apparently requires an inordinate amount of time in the vast grassy expanse housing those searching for homes. He has found it more difficult of late to find time for these visits, though they are important. Granted, he has found the demand for his time greatly increased of late. Unfortunately, that seems to come with the territory when one has been put in charge of a kingdom.
As the open space comes into view below him, he banks sharply, dropping with startling speed from the sky. The thrill of the sudden fall echoes through him, speeding his pulse and causing a rare glint in his eye. One that could almost be called happiness. If one knew him, they might be surprised at that, might deny that such a thing is possible. But then, smiles are rarer on his lips than are daisies in the Tundra.
Snapping his wings wide, he slows his descent, black eyes surveying the expanse below him for a likely candidate. Pickings are inevitably slim when one is looking to recruit for the Tundra, given the nature of the kingdom. So he is surprised to find a lone stallion almost immediately, one who appears to be waiting rather than hunting.
Drifting nearer, he settles onto the earth a short distance from the gray stallion with a gentle thud. The other stallion seems intent upon a drink, giving Hurricane a chance to study him closely. He can see immediately that something is different with the man, given the way he moves. His careful, premeditated movements indicate that he is unsure of his surroundings. Blind perhaps.
This changes nothing, however. Even a blind man could be quite useful. Stepping forward, the winged stallion offers a quiet greeting, allowing the stranger time to slake his thirst.
”I am Hurricane. From the Tundra. And you are…?”
Though his bluntness might be considered rude by some, he hopes that this man has better sense than that. They need men with sense. Men who recognize and understand such a direct approach and an unwillingness to waste time.
As the open space comes into view below him, he banks sharply, dropping with startling speed from the sky. The thrill of the sudden fall echoes through him, speeding his pulse and causing a rare glint in his eye. One that could almost be called happiness. If one knew him, they might be surprised at that, might deny that such a thing is possible. But then, smiles are rarer on his lips than are daisies in the Tundra.
Snapping his wings wide, he slows his descent, black eyes surveying the expanse below him for a likely candidate. Pickings are inevitably slim when one is looking to recruit for the Tundra, given the nature of the kingdom. So he is surprised to find a lone stallion almost immediately, one who appears to be waiting rather than hunting.
Drifting nearer, he settles onto the earth a short distance from the gray stallion with a gentle thud. The other stallion seems intent upon a drink, giving Hurricane a chance to study him closely. He can see immediately that something is different with the man, given the way he moves. His careful, premeditated movements indicate that he is unsure of his surroundings. Blind perhaps.
This changes nothing, however. Even a blind man could be quite useful. Stepping forward, the winged stallion offers a quiet greeting, allowing the stranger time to slake his thirst.
”I am Hurricane. From the Tundra. And you are…?”
Though his bluntness might be considered rude by some, he hopes that this man has better sense than that. They need men with sense. Men who recognize and understand such a direct approach and an unwillingness to waste time.
There is never a day that goes by
that is a good day to die.
Hurricane
