08-22-2018, 02:52 PM
Leilan
Demons run,
but count the cost...
but count the cost...
Friendship dies and true love lies
Night will fall and the dark will rise
Night will fall and the dark will rise
Oh dear fairies, what was he slow. Or is it just himself being pumped up, recklessly running around the kingdom? Leilan shakes his fur, deliberately close to the other stallion. ”My wetness is easier overcome than your fatness, brother.” he retorts.
The black scaled stallion stands up - slowly, ever so slowly. The roan snorts, giving the slow man time to smell him with a grin on his face. However, he does not exactly like the following comment, that it’s not his fault. So Leilan snorts. ”What kind of warrior are you then? Not worthy the title I would think, if you can’t bring it to yourself to keep in shape at least a little when your leader’s not looking at you directly all the time.” he retorts. Sincerly - earning a rank meant at least living up to it. What sort of brotherhood were they if they let just about anyone in their ranks, hmm?
Viserion, hmm. ”Leilan.” Then he grins. ”Pretty pair of fake warriors we make, a fat cat and a wet rat. You know what? Let’s mock on the plains sometime soon. You know - get into shape.” he grins, waiting for an answer to the invitation. He has no problems with the guy (that he knows of), although Viserion might not take too well on the weight jokes. But they were so easy; the only thing to make him stop was to either win a fight or otherwise get into shape again - that’s the only the roan would give the scaled one.
The black scaled stallion stands up - slowly, ever so slowly. The roan snorts, giving the slow man time to smell him with a grin on his face. However, he does not exactly like the following comment, that it’s not his fault. So Leilan snorts. ”What kind of warrior are you then? Not worthy the title I would think, if you can’t bring it to yourself to keep in shape at least a little when your leader’s not looking at you directly all the time.” he retorts. Sincerly - earning a rank meant at least living up to it. What sort of brotherhood were they if they let just about anyone in their ranks, hmm?
Viserion, hmm. ”Leilan.” Then he grins. ”Pretty pair of fake warriors we make, a fat cat and a wet rat. You know what? Let’s mock on the plains sometime soon. You know - get into shape.” he grins, waiting for an answer to the invitation. He has no problems with the guy (that he knows of), although Viserion might not take too well on the weight jokes. But they were so easy; the only thing to make him stop was to either win a fight or otherwise get into shape again - that’s the only the roan would give the scaled one.
the battle's won, but the child is lost
@[Viserion]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
| 