05-16-2018, 09:41 PM
He is so rarely alone. With an aunt and two uncles also just turned one, as well as the myriad of other relatives and the Brothers, Grye is usually under the watchful eye of some adult or another. But now as spring touches the rest of Beqanna, Grye and his playmates can be truly counted as yearlings, and Brennen has relaxed his careful watch of his children to some extent, and allowed that they may be free to wander the islands alone, though he has admonished them still not to leave Ischia without an elder.
The champagne-colored colt is taking full advantage of this newfound freedom, and headed down to the beaches, where is favorite activity is exploring the contents of the tidepools. Oh, of course he loves his family in all of it’s chaos and enormity, but he seeks these quieter moments alone for himself. In that way, he is like his sire. Olivier has always been the quieter sort, even though Grye’s mother Dagny has been all of the choas of Brennen’s extended family combined. But his quiet introspection is disturbed by a call from upshore, and the colt lifts his head and trots off that direction without looking back, as intrigued by the unfamiliar voice as he is by his tidewater ecosystems.
The unfamiliar voice belongs to an unfamiliar face, and the boy trumpets an excited greeting back as he trots along, his own wings tucked to his sides. “Hello!” he calls as he draws nearer, bright eyes curious. “I’m Grye. Welcome to Ischia!”
The champagne-colored colt is taking full advantage of this newfound freedom, and headed down to the beaches, where is favorite activity is exploring the contents of the tidepools. Oh, of course he loves his family in all of it’s chaos and enormity, but he seeks these quieter moments alone for himself. In that way, he is like his sire. Olivier has always been the quieter sort, even though Grye’s mother Dagny has been all of the choas of Brennen’s extended family combined. But his quiet introspection is disturbed by a call from upshore, and the colt lifts his head and trots off that direction without looking back, as intrigued by the unfamiliar voice as he is by his tidewater ecosystems.
The unfamiliar voice belongs to an unfamiliar face, and the boy trumpets an excited greeting back as he trots along, his own wings tucked to his sides. “Hello!” he calls as he draws nearer, bright eyes curious. “I’m Grye. Welcome to Ischia!”
Grye
Olivier x Dagny