08-22-2016, 04:50 PM
BUT HOW COULD YOU KNOW THE SWEETEST SUFFERING
OF MOVING ON
OF MOVING ON
It could be a meager attempt by now with having been approached by a female (so delicate, the fairer sex) but Tiphon’s shoulders ripple in a resigned shrug. From afar he watches in the appearance of the male then the mare soon after. Knowing well how the process goes, Tiphon pushes himself forward and takes an alternative mode of approach: walking. There is no teleporting or flying. It’s a run of the mill casual stroll through the knots of horses. An amused, lopsided grin finds its way across his lips as he tries to reflect on when he last decided to take a walk. With so many different options he tends to choose the quickest, but he is in no rush, not today.
”Hello,” the voice that’s emitted is deep but has the purity of a chord on the harp. It reverberates through their bodies and tenderly caresses their ears. ”I’m Tiphon,” the fact of being a soldier is evident by the stern but collected tone, but his body is unscathed and seemingly untouched by opponents. His coat, porcelain and molten gold, soaks in the sunlight hanging above them all. His eyes, calculating, observe the male warily before flickering to the mare as the space between them is closed. ”You must know her well to invade personal space like that,” it’s half-jokingly that he says this but he also regards the female for her objections.
”If you aren’t too deeply swooning over her, I have an alternative option for a home in the Dale.” Growth and power, that’s what the kingdom needs. There is so much room to climb and to find success, but he doesn’t indulge in this just yet. The opportunities that lie in wait are for those deserving, not just to anyone meandering the field. Additionally, he assumes testosterone will win and the stranger will pursue the poor girl; nonetheless, Tiphon remains steadfast and curious in the matter.
”Hello,” the voice that’s emitted is deep but has the purity of a chord on the harp. It reverberates through their bodies and tenderly caresses their ears. ”I’m Tiphon,” the fact of being a soldier is evident by the stern but collected tone, but his body is unscathed and seemingly untouched by opponents. His coat, porcelain and molten gold, soaks in the sunlight hanging above them all. His eyes, calculating, observe the male warily before flickering to the mare as the space between them is closed. ”You must know her well to invade personal space like that,” it’s half-jokingly that he says this but he also regards the female for her objections.
”If you aren’t too deeply swooning over her, I have an alternative option for a home in the Dale.” Growth and power, that’s what the kingdom needs. There is so much room to climb and to find success, but he doesn’t indulge in this just yet. The opportunities that lie in wait are for those deserving, not just to anyone meandering the field. Additionally, he assumes testosterone will win and the stranger will pursue the poor girl; nonetheless, Tiphon remains steadfast and curious in the matter.
TIPHON
STARLACE AND INFECTION