02-23-2019, 04:58 PM
He stands on the thin strip of sandy beach, looking northwest to where the sun has begun to sink behind the horizon. Somewhere over there is the Brilliant Pampas. Pteron knows it is there, its endless familiar grasslands slowly turning golden as the days grow shorter.
This will be the tobiano colt's first winter in Loess, as well as his first winter alone.
At nearly two, the winged Pteron is not especially young, but the instinctual longing for the comfort of a family still has a tight hold on him. It is a result of having being very suddenly alone last spring, when his parents had gone away for safety and Pteron had insisted he was old enough to be on his own, and old enough to stay by himself. He hadn't been, he knows now, but it was too late to change his mind.
Instead he makes the best of the life that he has chosen for himself. The rolling hills of Loess are at his back, turned orange in the fading autumn light. Even Pteron's own cremello coat is tinged with gold, a matching shade to the trees that wear their autumn finery. He shakes the dark pinions of his feathers as a cool breezes basses by, stirring his flaxen hair and the pale sand of the beach as it goes.
His day had been spent circling the border of the kingdom. From time to time he took a few passes over the heartland to ensure that the captives were still visible (they always were), but for the most part he spun lazy circles on the autumnal headwinds and practiced his ariel dives. The muscles of his white and blue wings are sore, but in a way that Pteron knows will fade by the first light of dawn. Aches and pains are temporary for the dun pegasus; for whom even shattered bones heals in seconds. He’d been hoping for a conversation, but most of the residents of Loess have been distracted by pursuits other than conversation with a pre-adolescent boy.
Pteron knows what they’re doing out there, but the appeal is lost on him. He’d rather have an adventure than spend time panting in the shadows with someone else, no matter how soft their sunset colored skin or how pretty their amethyst eyes. He’d rather take a swim, for sure, and that is what has brought him to the beach. Now that he is here though, the water feels a bit too cool against his fetlocks, and he wonders if prehaps one of the warm springs farther inland might be a better choice on this chilly evening.
@[Reia]
ooc i have no idea why the font hates me and im too incompetent to change it but at least it is readable
This will be the tobiano colt's first winter in Loess, as well as his first winter alone.
At nearly two, the winged Pteron is not especially young, but the instinctual longing for the comfort of a family still has a tight hold on him. It is a result of having being very suddenly alone last spring, when his parents had gone away for safety and Pteron had insisted he was old enough to be on his own, and old enough to stay by himself. He hadn't been, he knows now, but it was too late to change his mind.
Instead he makes the best of the life that he has chosen for himself. The rolling hills of Loess are at his back, turned orange in the fading autumn light. Even Pteron's own cremello coat is tinged with gold, a matching shade to the trees that wear their autumn finery. He shakes the dark pinions of his feathers as a cool breezes basses by, stirring his flaxen hair and the pale sand of the beach as it goes.
His day had been spent circling the border of the kingdom. From time to time he took a few passes over the heartland to ensure that the captives were still visible (they always were), but for the most part he spun lazy circles on the autumnal headwinds and practiced his ariel dives. The muscles of his white and blue wings are sore, but in a way that Pteron knows will fade by the first light of dawn. Aches and pains are temporary for the dun pegasus; for whom even shattered bones heals in seconds. He’d been hoping for a conversation, but most of the residents of Loess have been distracted by pursuits other than conversation with a pre-adolescent boy.
Pteron knows what they’re doing out there, but the appeal is lost on him. He’d rather have an adventure than spend time panting in the shadows with someone else, no matter how soft their sunset colored skin or how pretty their amethyst eyes. He’d rather take a swim, for sure, and that is what has brought him to the beach. Now that he is here though, the water feels a bit too cool against his fetlocks, and he wonders if prehaps one of the warm springs farther inland might be a better choice on this chilly evening.
@[Reia]
ooc i have no idea why the font hates me and im too incompetent to change it but at least it is readable