11-04-2018, 10:00 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
Despite focusing most of his attention on the lizard, he can hear their movement and chatter behind him. There’s still enough of a mind-channel open that he also catches the basic drift of their thoughts. He wants to turn around, to introduce himself to her, but he has to satisfy himself with knowing that there is no malice in the stranger stallion’s thoughts as he flees with Brennen’s offspring towards the main portion of the island. Even that fades into the background, though, when the one in front of him…speaks.
To his everlasting credit, he doesn’t show any surprise. Sure, Beqannians are used to semi-sentient wildlife, but few of these creatures simply open their mouths and speak. His parrots do, of course, but mostly they’re just repeating things they’ve heard. Other than that, wildlife that speaks is usually either magical in nature, or actually a horse shifted in form. Still, his faces changes with incredulity when he understands what is being said to him. “Of course we do not,” he snaps, voice icy, but not relaxing even a hair. “We are not barbarians. We protect our young and our weak, so that the group together will thrive.”
In response to the lizard’s assertion that his newfound daughter would have been ‘delicious’, Brennen snakes his head low again, ears pinned, a wordless threat, and he is just beginning to lift his head again when he is sprayed with the creature’s saliva, which burns upon impact, at dozens of tiny points where it lands on him. The warrior king hisses, more with annoyance than true pain, though it quickly turns from an annoyance to true pain where it has landed on more sensitive areas – his muzzle, and around his eyes. His first response is to leap into retaliation, but even as a jet of water starts to propel it’s way towards the dragon, logic prevails.
Even Brennen recognizes a sneeze when he hears one.
The water is dispelled, crashing back into the surf, and over the top of it he raises his voice. “The residents of Ischia are not food. You’d better get used to eating seafood, if you’re staying, because that’s really all there is here.” He can’t (really) fault a predator for acting like a predator, but this island is uninhabited by aught except equines and avians. “And neither do they want to be sprayed by whatever it is you’ve got brewing up your weird scaly nose. Keep it to yourself.” He starts to back away, turning to look at the two on the mainland only when he is some distance away – he will hear it, if the dragon drops back into the water to attack.
“Hello,” he says to them, once he too is on dry sand. “I’m Brennen.”
To his everlasting credit, he doesn’t show any surprise. Sure, Beqannians are used to semi-sentient wildlife, but few of these creatures simply open their mouths and speak. His parrots do, of course, but mostly they’re just repeating things they’ve heard. Other than that, wildlife that speaks is usually either magical in nature, or actually a horse shifted in form. Still, his faces changes with incredulity when he understands what is being said to him. “Of course we do not,” he snaps, voice icy, but not relaxing even a hair. “We are not barbarians. We protect our young and our weak, so that the group together will thrive.”
In response to the lizard’s assertion that his newfound daughter would have been ‘delicious’, Brennen snakes his head low again, ears pinned, a wordless threat, and he is just beginning to lift his head again when he is sprayed with the creature’s saliva, which burns upon impact, at dozens of tiny points where it lands on him. The warrior king hisses, more with annoyance than true pain, though it quickly turns from an annoyance to true pain where it has landed on more sensitive areas – his muzzle, and around his eyes. His first response is to leap into retaliation, but even as a jet of water starts to propel it’s way towards the dragon, logic prevails.
Even Brennen recognizes a sneeze when he hears one.
The water is dispelled, crashing back into the surf, and over the top of it he raises his voice. “The residents of Ischia are not food. You’d better get used to eating seafood, if you’re staying, because that’s really all there is here.” He can’t (really) fault a predator for acting like a predator, but this island is uninhabited by aught except equines and avians. “And neither do they want to be sprayed by whatever it is you’ve got brewing up your weird scaly nose. Keep it to yourself.” He starts to back away, turning to look at the two on the mainland only when he is some distance away – he will hear it, if the dragon drops back into the water to attack.
“Hello,” he says to them, once he too is on dry sand. “I’m Brennen.”
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