"With my speechless calm eyes."
Today could be the day, if he only wanted it to be.
Brynmor was one of those horses that was adjusted to the winter’s cold and actually liked the season. There was nothing he held against the spring, summer and autumn, but it was the view of the snow covered hills that he preferred. It had been a while since the gray male had made the trip to the meadow and unlike last time he wasn’t bothered by his thick coat. The winter had reached the meadow by now. Maybe the winter here wasn’t as strong as up north in the Tundra, but at least he wasn’t sweating like crazy.
His blue eyes travelled across the fields of the meadow, looking at each of the habitants one by one. It was only stallions he was interested in right now. Not that he held anything against mares – he enjoyed their companionship – but it were new brothers they needed. For both their castes, the war and peace one. Brynmor himself was active in both, finding himself more comfortable in his diplomat role than the warrior one, but wiling to contribute to the Tundra in every way he could.
That was also the type of stallions he was looking for. The ones that were ambitious and eager to get things done, and contribute to their home in the process. This dappled stallion might be such male. After having watched him for a moment Brynmor steps forward, closing the distance between them. His step isn’t bothered by the snow, nor does he slow down, finding much comfortable with the icy ground underneath his hooves.
”Goodday” he greets the stranger, politely dipping his head slightly before offering him a smile. ”I’m Brynmor, of the Tundra.” His introduction is short and he doesn’t swirl around the things, directly telling who he was and where he came from. ”You look like you’ve been waiting for something, something, am I correct?” he asks, eyeing the stranger up and down once again before his blue eyes look up again to meet his gaze.
"Nothing is coming to rise."