04-14-2017, 08:41 PM
hold me in this wild, wild world
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
He is going to walk on by them. The boy is almost too young for his current project, after all, and should by rights still be at his mother’s side; and the mare is already there, cooing her delight, and if she’s not his mother, she’ll probably see him right back to his family. Brennen is ready to walk on, to find someone else to recruit, but the boy’s voice carries to him and stops him, and the stallion closes his eyes for a moment, something in the colt’s voice sending a shiver up his spine.
So the pegasus turns back to them, walks a few steps to close the difference, taking a good look at the kid through his amber-brown eyes and throwing the mare (who apparently isn’t the kid’s mom) a cursory glance before he simply settles his heavy gaze on the kid. “I’m Brennen,” he introduces himself, offering a little half-smile, but it doesn’t settle. Unlike the bubbly mare between them, Brennen isn’t kind. At least, nothing in his demeanor right now says he is – nothing in his posture right this minute says he is anything except the over-protective warrior stallion that he has made himself into. The goofy, beloved grandfather, the man who has mostly given up actual battle for the pretense of being ‘elderly’ is tucked away deep somewhere within. The Brennen on the outside is the one who thinks what he is hearing is a child who’s been threatened.
“You know,” he says it almost conversationally, forcing himself to gentle his tone just a bit. Just enough to say ‘I’m dangerous, but it’s not you I’m a danger to’. “You don’t have to stay anywhere you don’t want to stay. Anywhere that’s not exactly safe. There are people who would help you.”
So the pegasus turns back to them, walks a few steps to close the difference, taking a good look at the kid through his amber-brown eyes and throwing the mare (who apparently isn’t the kid’s mom) a cursory glance before he simply settles his heavy gaze on the kid. “I’m Brennen,” he introduces himself, offering a little half-smile, but it doesn’t settle. Unlike the bubbly mare between them, Brennen isn’t kind. At least, nothing in his demeanor right now says he is – nothing in his posture right this minute says he is anything except the over-protective warrior stallion that he has made himself into. The goofy, beloved grandfather, the man who has mostly given up actual battle for the pretense of being ‘elderly’ is tucked away deep somewhere within. The Brennen on the outside is the one who thinks what he is hearing is a child who’s been threatened.
“You know,” he says it almost conversationally, forcing himself to gentle his tone just a bit. Just enough to say ‘I’m dangerous, but it’s not you I’m a danger to’. “You don’t have to stay anywhere you don’t want to stay. Anywhere that’s not exactly safe. There are people who would help you.”
hold me in this wild, wild world
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
BRENNEN