He's never taken much notice of sunrises or sunsets so Tarian can honestly say that this day is starting like any other; the only difference is that he's lost and the silver stallion has never been the ambling sort. There has always been a purpose in his stride and a reason in his direction. Tarian is glad that the dawn has come - it certainly makes it easier to see where he's going - but the knowledge that he isn't familiar with the destination irritates him.
It bristles beneath his lightly dappled skin.
He can usually hide it beneath a mask of stoicism. (He's quite good at that - taking that lovely pale luster of his and turning himself something carved out of marble.)
Tarian had known that he was facing east. He wasn't so much of a fledgling flyer to not know what direction he faced. The sun would be breaking over some vantage point and he had been preparing himself for that. This clearing, though, is unfamiliar and exposed how little he knew of the land that found himself wandering. (Wandering! Him! The warrior prince without a kingdom or a cause. Ironic.) Though the rising sun took command of his vision and made everything a dark flash of red, there is a brief moment that the color changes. A trick of the light? He isn't sure.
Uncertain and annoyed, his scowl deepens. Tarian hides it as he drops his proud head, a partially flared left-wing used as a shield between him and the blinding sun. The buffer works well enough and reveals a blue-tinted mare when he looks up. His glacier-blue eyes flick up to the spots on her forehead and Tarian uses the silence to realize that they aren't a lingering effect of the assault on his vision.
She sports those spots just as he claims his wings. What a shame that she didn't have any of her own.
The silver pegasus stallion looks almost thoughtful until he speaks and the edges of his gray mouth purse into a firm line. "Oh?" he retorts, "thank you for that illuminating ray of information."
Snorting softly (he has some decorum) as he lifts his head, he asks: "do you show up here every morning as well or was today just my luck?"
It bristles beneath his lightly dappled skin.
He can usually hide it beneath a mask of stoicism. (He's quite good at that - taking that lovely pale luster of his and turning himself something carved out of marble.)
Tarian had known that he was facing east. He wasn't so much of a fledgling flyer to not know what direction he faced. The sun would be breaking over some vantage point and he had been preparing himself for that. This clearing, though, is unfamiliar and exposed how little he knew of the land that found himself wandering. (Wandering! Him! The warrior prince without a kingdom or a cause. Ironic.) Though the rising sun took command of his vision and made everything a dark flash of red, there is a brief moment that the color changes. A trick of the light? He isn't sure.
Uncertain and annoyed, his scowl deepens. Tarian hides it as he drops his proud head, a partially flared left-wing used as a shield between him and the blinding sun. The buffer works well enough and reveals a blue-tinted mare when he looks up. His glacier-blue eyes flick up to the spots on her forehead and Tarian uses the silence to realize that they aren't a lingering effect of the assault on his vision.
She sports those spots just as he claims his wings. What a shame that she didn't have any of her own.
The silver pegasus stallion looks almost thoughtful until he speaks and the edges of his gray mouth purse into a firm line. "Oh?" he retorts, "thank you for that illuminating ray of information."
Snorting softly (he has some decorum) as he lifts his head, he asks: "do you show up here every morning as well or was today just my luck?"
TARIAN
@[Altissima] bare with me, i'm still figuring him out