09-03-2018, 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 doesn’t have to wait long, before the distant sound of hooves crunching on leaves disturbs his bubble of sunlight-filtered silence. The bay doesn’t move towards the sound: let the stranger come to him. Brennen does straighten, pulling himself to his full height and refolding his overlarge wings, the ends still damp from standing in seawater. A precise flick at the end of the folding process lays all of the feathers down neatly, and he turns his face to the leafy canopy overhead until the sounds becomes too close to ignore.
When Brennen turns his head to regard the dappled stallion, it’s not with any sort of haste. He takes his time surveying the stranger from ear-tips to the end of his tail, before finally settling his honey-brown eyes on the other man’s face. The gray smells, interestingly, of Loess more strongly than of Sylva. That doesn’t exactly put him at ease, but it doesn’t hurt. Loess, is, if not a neutral entity than at least one that has not been overtly hostile. Brennen’s dark-tipped ears are actively moving, listening for other threats, but one flicks forward to catch the stallion’s words.
The stranger doesn’t bother to introduce himself, but speaks as if he has authority to speak on behalf of the forest Kingdom, and it annoys Brennen enough that he takes his time in answering. He didn’t like the way his daughter had been acting, after she had left Ischia for Sylva, but that didn’t mean there was any particle of him that was okay with someone overthrowing one of his children – except for himself and his allies, of course, but that was different, at least to Brennen. “Yes,” he drawls in reply, and despite the warm color of his gaze locked with Arthas’, there’s nothing warm in his eyes or his voice. “My name is Brennen, King of Ischia.” Each word is chosen with care, considered and tasted fully before he releases them. “I’m looking for my daughter, Astarael, Queen of Sylva.”
When Brennen turns his head to regard the dappled stallion, it’s not with any sort of haste. He takes his time surveying the stranger from ear-tips to the end of his tail, before finally settling his honey-brown eyes on the other man’s face. The gray smells, interestingly, of Loess more strongly than of Sylva. That doesn’t exactly put him at ease, but it doesn’t hurt. Loess, is, if not a neutral entity than at least one that has not been overtly hostile. Brennen’s dark-tipped ears are actively moving, listening for other threats, but one flicks forward to catch the stallion’s words.
The stranger doesn’t bother to introduce himself, but speaks as if he has authority to speak on behalf of the forest Kingdom, and it annoys Brennen enough that he takes his time in answering. He didn’t like the way his daughter had been acting, after she had left Ischia for Sylva, but that didn’t mean there was any particle of him that was okay with someone overthrowing one of his children – except for himself and his allies, of course, but that was different, at least to Brennen. “Yes,” he drawls in reply, and despite the warm color of his gaze locked with Arthas’, there’s nothing warm in his eyes or his voice. “My name is Brennen, King of Ischia.” Each word is chosen with care, considered and tasted fully before he releases them. “I’m looking for my daughter, Astarael, Queen of Sylva.”
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
@[Arthas]