Trekori
i'm freezing, it's not winter yet
but my fingers and toes
are shivering beneath these sheets
and i feel so alone
i don't want to die, i want to sleep
My mouth is full of grass by the time Var is complaining about another way that I've managed to affront him - though this time, it happens to be because I won the unspoken race between us. Semi-lifting my head, I grin at him and garble some words around my mouthful, laughing all the while. "Acfuwee Ihm juff be-er an oo -- AHKC" I choke on my mouthful in a very unladylike-like manner, my head bouncing to try and accommodate the grass without making me vomit. With some final chuckles and vigorous chewing, I swallow my bite and raise my head, sheepishly grinning. "Well, maybe better at flying, but not at eating, apparently."
A stallion is approaching us then, and I shake off some of my newfound goofiness, returning to my rather stoic self. The purple of my eyes becomes darker, and I squeeze my wings to my skinny ribs, eyeing the third pegasus with interest. His gaze conveyed a kind of intelligence and intent that couldn't be misplaced; he had approached us, and no one else, though there were plenty to choose from. And by the scars on his body, this isn't his first rodeo - he chose us with a purpose in mind.
Suddenly, I desperately want to know that purpose.
He asks us what kinds of homes we're looking for, and I glance to Var as he answers. Not just for himself, either - even in the presence of others I'm his adopted kid, apparently. I want to smile and snuggle under his wing again, but I settle for rolling my eyes and shifting my weight. I'm about to introduce myself, but then remember that Var did that for me as well, and so instead I jump right into the thick of things. It seems to be all of our go-to reactions in this case.
"I'm looking for a worthy case to pledge my name to. And I think that Var is, too." I glance to him for approval of this statement before continuing. "I don't want to just go somewhere and not have a purpose. An intent. Does your Ischia have an intent?" My eyes gleam almost knowingly as I let the question trail into silence, wondering if Brennen caught my purposeful implication that is was his Ischia. And it must be - by the way the stallion carries himself, the way he knows his way about more than anyone I've met in my short life; he couldn't just be another recruiter.
Could he?
@[Brennen]
