05-14-2016, 03:20 PM
WEIR
Discussing things with Weir is not so bad, so long as you have the time to do so. Not discussing things with Weir was not so bad either, he was an agreeable sort of fellow that way. Taking a child in from the den had been as easy as breathing, as sure as filling one’s belly with sweet grass when you were hungry, it was something that had to be done. How could you just leave them there? It was a cold place in its own way and not from temperature alone, it simply held that sort of presence to him. There is no way he could have ever left sweet little Neva alone in that place, and one look at the speckle coated, frost riddled girl and he knew it was meant to be. Now the roan did not make a habit of frequenting the adoption lands because it was simply too sad, but he would never question another’s decision to bring home one of the poor dears- certainly not Eira’s either.
If he could manage Weir would likely have brought home a lot more than just the one frosted girl but he thought it best to not make a habit out of going, and it made him uncomfortable as well. Once he had found a child on the brink of death and that endeavor had not panned out well at all, to this day it was a thought he tried best to tuck away into the deep recesses of his brilliant mind.
When the bay mare calls he is always quick to answer, her words were song to his ears, a tether to his heart and without much thought he chose his preferred method of transport rather than walking, the limp he had sustained from the war was rather annoying. In true Weir fashion he made sure to have fun with things, swirling against the winged child in the form of snow and bitter wind. Twisting about in pale blues and soft powdery whites like crystals in the sun before materializing from the icy matter. “Halloooo my dear, who is this then?”The first question is directed to his lady love, Eira, the most beautiful woman in all the lands. Had they had another child, so soon?
Weir thought on that for a moment, amber eyes narrowing, no surely they only had the one child, so this one, well who did this one belong to? “A young friend of Newton’s I suspect?” A perfectly plausible reasoning, they were abouts the same age if he were to guess.
Newton had a curious friend here, one with wings, how nice! The fae had really outdone themselves this season and he couldn’t help but eye the extra appendages closely. “My, my what a wonderful set of wings you have. Are they heavy?” Of course he had many questions, one’s he had never thought to ask Phaedrus of because well, it hadn’t come up now had it? However children usually were more accommodating when it came to learning and telling and Weir could not waste the opportunity. He didn’t think the wings were heavy, especially since they looked like they belonged there and also because he knew that birds wings were hollow so perhaps they weighed nothing at all to the child. It is best to know though don’t you think, to ask the source?
“Oh goodness, my apologies young one. I am Weir,” A tip of his rusty head as he makes proper his greeting.
If he could manage Weir would likely have brought home a lot more than just the one frosted girl but he thought it best to not make a habit out of going, and it made him uncomfortable as well. Once he had found a child on the brink of death and that endeavor had not panned out well at all, to this day it was a thought he tried best to tuck away into the deep recesses of his brilliant mind.
When the bay mare calls he is always quick to answer, her words were song to his ears, a tether to his heart and without much thought he chose his preferred method of transport rather than walking, the limp he had sustained from the war was rather annoying. In true Weir fashion he made sure to have fun with things, swirling against the winged child in the form of snow and bitter wind. Twisting about in pale blues and soft powdery whites like crystals in the sun before materializing from the icy matter. “Halloooo my dear, who is this then?”The first question is directed to his lady love, Eira, the most beautiful woman in all the lands. Had they had another child, so soon?
Weir thought on that for a moment, amber eyes narrowing, no surely they only had the one child, so this one, well who did this one belong to? “A young friend of Newton’s I suspect?” A perfectly plausible reasoning, they were abouts the same age if he were to guess.
Newton had a curious friend here, one with wings, how nice! The fae had really outdone themselves this season and he couldn’t help but eye the extra appendages closely. “My, my what a wonderful set of wings you have. Are they heavy?” Of course he had many questions, one’s he had never thought to ask Phaedrus of because well, it hadn’t come up now had it? However children usually were more accommodating when it came to learning and telling and Weir could not waste the opportunity. He didn’t think the wings were heavy, especially since they looked like they belonged there and also because he knew that birds wings were hollow so perhaps they weighed nothing at all to the child. It is best to know though don’t you think, to ask the source?
“Oh goodness, my apologies young one. I am Weir,” A tip of his rusty head as he makes proper his greeting.
WINTER IS COMING