02-26-2016, 10:11 PM
oh the weather outside is frightful
Spirit’s are fascinating creatures, ask Weir, he’ll tell you. In fact he would LOVE to tell you, so he will, the truth- the whole truth and nothing but it.
Now, Darwin is a Galapagos tortoise, a beautiful and majestic creature (ask anyone). He also just so happens to be a Spirit of a wondrous creature named Weir, now don’t ask how, no one quite knows the reason. Darwin is here and he is there and he is also no where at all at times. He does not thirst, nor does he hunger, he doesn’t tire or know what it is to be exhausted. He exists and he does not, maybe that is like a shadow in a way.
A shadow, darkness, the absence of light- well, I guess you’d say a Spirit is the opposite of that. For all purposes suppose it was the presence of all light. Darwin is curious if anything at the dogs that are sent to accost him (the nerious brutes). He is even taken by surprise when one bites him on his rough green leg but Darwin is quite to maneuver himself in a way that would make Michael Jackson himself proud.
The great tortoise (and I do mean great, he’s rather large you see) rolls up on his front, sending his thick shell to (hopefully) make a pancake of the shadow’s long snout. ‘Take that you nasty creature!’ he yells before he disappears all together. Darwin’s back in that place that is somewhere and nowhere at once.
Weir on the other hand has made for the creep that sent his dogs on his very special friend in the first place, “You scoundrel!” A war cry emits from his chest as he makes his way for the darkness shaping sorcerer. It’s is with luck that Phaedrus beats him there, wrapping around the stallion long enough to distract him he hopes. To Rhonan’s face (it s handsome one he guesses) Weir sends a ball of amber light, one filled with Christmas cheer.
“You need to get back on the straight and narrow son.” a fatherly chide before he locks his legs in ice. “It’s for your own good.” He snorts, half-sneezing in the other male’s face.
“I- terribly sorry.” he apologizes briefly and then wraps himself and Phaedrus in invisibility.
Now, Darwin is a Galapagos tortoise, a beautiful and majestic creature (ask anyone). He also just so happens to be a Spirit of a wondrous creature named Weir, now don’t ask how, no one quite knows the reason. Darwin is here and he is there and he is also no where at all at times. He does not thirst, nor does he hunger, he doesn’t tire or know what it is to be exhausted. He exists and he does not, maybe that is like a shadow in a way.
A shadow, darkness, the absence of light- well, I guess you’d say a Spirit is the opposite of that. For all purposes suppose it was the presence of all light. Darwin is curious if anything at the dogs that are sent to accost him (the nerious brutes). He is even taken by surprise when one bites him on his rough green leg but Darwin is quite to maneuver himself in a way that would make Michael Jackson himself proud.
The great tortoise (and I do mean great, he’s rather large you see) rolls up on his front, sending his thick shell to (hopefully) make a pancake of the shadow’s long snout. ‘Take that you nasty creature!’ he yells before he disappears all together. Darwin’s back in that place that is somewhere and nowhere at once.
Weir on the other hand has made for the creep that sent his dogs on his very special friend in the first place, “You scoundrel!” A war cry emits from his chest as he makes his way for the darkness shaping sorcerer. It’s is with luck that Phaedrus beats him there, wrapping around the stallion long enough to distract him he hopes. To Rhonan’s face (it s handsome one he guesses) Weir sends a ball of amber light, one filled with Christmas cheer.
“You need to get back on the straight and narrow son.” a fatherly chide before he locks his legs in ice. “It’s for your own good.” He snorts, half-sneezing in the other male’s face.
“I- terribly sorry.” he apologizes briefly and then wraps himself and Phaedrus in invisibility.
W E I R
Invisble- Magic manipulating - Winter wielder of the Dale