06-10-2020, 03:09 PM
When Oceane leaves him and Alcinder behind, Leilan honestly would be scratching his ears if he knew how to do that in his horse-shape. Alas, he lifts and stomps a hind leg and discovers it is an itch that a horse must scratch to a tree - besides, it’s just the phantom itch of being unsure what just happened -and, what to do next.
Fortunately the two-year-old had already made his own request, so it was a tad easier. ”Ischia, then. Too sandy for my taste, but the jungle is quite alright.” he agrees somewhat with the young male, or rather, sounds like he’s convincing himself to accept that as their next destination.
Thankfully Cinder is winged, a trait he would be most likely to have inherited, true - it had taken Leilan considerably longer to achieve flight in his life, and only through a different kind of trait at that. It’s functional though, and that’s what counts.
And so, they fly, skipping past borders where otherwise the ice-clad stallion would have to go around for political reasons perhaps - as a leader there was no way to do anything right - but it made the whole ordeal with travelling so much easier.
Leilan’s baritone rolls like a wave from the sands through the trees; then, he settles in for the wait. He eyes the young male, wondering if he should dismiss him yet; honestly the roan couldn’t be bothered if he spent a day away, feeling that he would keep his promise - if not to Leilan, then to his mother. But he’d promised training - which should probably include politics, if even for a bit.
Fortunately the two-year-old had already made his own request, so it was a tad easier. ”Ischia, then. Too sandy for my taste, but the jungle is quite alright.” he agrees somewhat with the young male, or rather, sounds like he’s convincing himself to accept that as their next destination.
Thankfully Cinder is winged, a trait he would be most likely to have inherited, true - it had taken Leilan considerably longer to achieve flight in his life, and only through a different kind of trait at that. It’s functional though, and that’s what counts.
And so, they fly, skipping past borders where otherwise the ice-clad stallion would have to go around for political reasons perhaps - as a leader there was no way to do anything right - but it made the whole ordeal with travelling so much easier.
Leilan’s baritone rolls like a wave from the sands through the trees; then, he settles in for the wait. He eyes the young male, wondering if he should dismiss him yet; honestly the roan couldn’t be bothered if he spent a day away, feeling that he would keep his promise - if not to Leilan, then to his mother. But he’d promised training - which should probably include politics, if even for a bit.
nothing burns like the cold
Leilan
@[Alcinder]@[Cormorant]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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