10-10-2018, 04:57 AM
Leilan
a dragon who couldn't be hurt on the outside
could have so many ragged holes inside
could have so many ragged holes inside
It took him too long, but in the topic of home, there is but one answer he’ll ever give. Home is the place filled with family and for those whoe are so lucky, home is the place where one’s lover resides. Or happenes to be queen of. When that coincides with where the family lives (Chryseis and Ophanim to be excepted, but Hyaline is close and since Jenova will never have one home, she takes their son with her, at least for now), there is no otherplace he could imagine to live. It’s why he left the brotherhood (even though they’re still somewhat his family), in favour of Nerine.
Nowadays he’s glad he can be here all day. Most days, not unlike now, are spent with the queen of the lands just within reach of the dragon vision, and keeping one eye on her at all times while simultaneously trying to graze. In summer, he does so from the shadow of an overhanging cliff so as not to be too much of a target, reflecting too much of the sun in mid-sky. And when the flecked, winged and bronze stallion closes in on him, he notices a little late, and still tries to divide his attention between the stallion and the sotted figure in the distance. If he’s calculated right, she should not be able to see him, but he doesn’t know about his fellow Nerinian man for sure.
He smells of the coastal kingdom, and the roan remembers his promise to Ardashir. Meet this army of his. Question is, is this man a part of it, but as he sees the confident stance he figures that at the very least, come the need for a fight, they should be able to ask the man’s help.
Castile. Storing the name, the gold-haired stallion nods. ”I’m Leilan. I take it you also found a reason to come to Nerine instead of Ischia?” Ice blue eyes switch colour as the scaled roan looks the other man over, greenish, yellowish, back to blue, then Castile recieves a draconic-toothy grin. ”So is that family or one of these lovely Leviathans for you?”
Nowadays he’s glad he can be here all day. Most days, not unlike now, are spent with the queen of the lands just within reach of the dragon vision, and keeping one eye on her at all times while simultaneously trying to graze. In summer, he does so from the shadow of an overhanging cliff so as not to be too much of a target, reflecting too much of the sun in mid-sky. And when the flecked, winged and bronze stallion closes in on him, he notices a little late, and still tries to divide his attention between the stallion and the sotted figure in the distance. If he’s calculated right, she should not be able to see him, but he doesn’t know about his fellow Nerinian man for sure.
He smells of the coastal kingdom, and the roan remembers his promise to Ardashir. Meet this army of his. Question is, is this man a part of it, but as he sees the confident stance he figures that at the very least, come the need for a fight, they should be able to ask the man’s help.
Castile. Storing the name, the gold-haired stallion nods. ”I’m Leilan. I take it you also found a reason to come to Nerine instead of Ischia?” Ice blue eyes switch colour as the scaled roan looks the other man over, greenish, yellowish, back to blue, then Castile recieves a draconic-toothy grin. ”So is that family or one of these lovely Leviathans for you?”
@[Castile]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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