"With my speechless calm eyes."
Quite a few years had passed since Hurricane had found him in the field. Back then the graying male had still been blind and Hurricane finding him had been a set up. The Chamber had it all planned out, or if he would be precise he would have to say that Straia and Gryffen had planned it all. Back then it still had been unknown who would reign the Tundra, after the previous king had disappeared, but it had never been their intention to put one of their pawns on the throne. The Tundra simply had no value in their eyes, as the snow covered lands were empty and it’s little habitants wouldn’t be of any good to them.
On top of that a blind king wouldn’t have worked anyway. Not to mention that he lacked the will to be a ruler. He had only been a puppet on the end of the strings that Gryffen held. Ever since his birth the winged male had been in control, something that angered the gray stallion, but if he only would know that Gryffen also had been the cause of the death of his mother that hatred would be much worse. His youth was a big black gap, just as his sight had been back then, and the only one who had been there for him was a non-existing spin of his mind.
”Damnit, get out of my thoughts. You’re not real” he snaps before he starts cursing under his breath. ’Oh Brynnie, you would be lonely without me.’ He’s agitated and annoyed by the fact that his ‘friend’ kept humouring him, even though Brynmor now knew that it only was an imaginary voice in his mind. Shaytan had been the first to point it out, but he hadn’t believed her, especially as nobody else seemed to comment about it. Yet it had never occurred to him nobody had spoken towards this friend, he had been the only one.
Normally his senses – which are better than average to compensate the lack of sight during the time had been blind – were quick to tell him when someone was near. He would smell them, hear them or just sense them, but today he’s suddenly hit by an unknown scent. Due to his surprise Brynmor doesn’t look where he is going, stepping on a twig that cracks underneath his weight. Muttering something to himself he continues to walk, now curious to the stranger and thankful for the distraction from the voice in his thoughts.
His eyes meet the crimson ones. If he would’ve known how Gryffen looked he surely would’ve thought about his former puppeteer’s red eyes. But he doesn’t and therefor he offers the stranger – or not so stranger as Offspring offers him his name – a polite smile. ”I am. My name is Brynmor” he answers after a short pause. The graying male moves closer, studying the dark stallion for a moment, before meeting his gaze again.
”Welcome to the Tundra then, new brothers are much appreciated.” That wasn’t a lie, in fact, they needed more brothers. They were only with a few and there were almost just as much females as males around, and that wasn’t quite right. Not that Brynmor didn’t appreciate the company of the other sex – as he was especially fond of his lover Roan’s company – but he was glad to learn that there were other males out there that are willing to join them. ”What do you think of the kingdom thus far?” he asks, head tilting a little to the side to study the look upon Offspring’s features.
"Nothing is coming to rise."
OOC: Sorry for the wait. I finally found some Bryn muse
Italic is what the imaginary voice in his head says, not to be confused with the colored text that Bryn himself says ^^