09-24-2020, 04:05 PM
Leilan
Winter is over, spring has come. The change is metaphorical perhaps, for one of his kind. He’s ruled the lands of the north for the cold seasons, and if he was chosen just to be a threat to the southern dragons, well, it failed. With it, he failed certain implied expectations - visions he hadn’t shared with them - and the opinions differed. He means well - but everything he does has a darker side, too.
Once upon a time there was a fairy. Once upon a time there was a goddess. Once upon a time there was a young and stupid stallion involving himself with magic. Once upon a time there was some idiot who hated politics, who claimed a land and left a piece of himself there, every time his feet carried him away.
What a disaster.
Birdsong (he never cared enough to know each species by heart, by sound) wakes him out of his mesmerising, his feet having carried him from one forest to another, and another. This is the open place that once helped him out of imprisonment, the safety of green canopy hiding him at the time. Right now, his red, silver and golden appearance isn’t easily concealed, but he has a little gift that helps him drape the shadows over himself. He doesn’t in fact fully hide away, the darkness just a bit of a shadow, hardly deeper than this part of the forest anyway.It just helps take away the obvious metallic and icy shine of him, or so he thinks.
Dew still clings to the leaves, this morning, even if it’s almost noon. The roan stallion meanders between the trees looking for... well, he doesn’t know. Perhaps the forest will yield something to him today, perhaps it will only help him realise how badly he doesn’t belong.
He makes a left without really looking where he goes, his hoofs leisurely taking him one way or the other. Old leaves and branches are shuffled away where he passes, new sprouts are shunned in hopes they will grow.
He hasn’t seen a lot of green, lately.
Once upon a time there was a fairy. Once upon a time there was a goddess. Once upon a time there was a young and stupid stallion involving himself with magic. Once upon a time there was some idiot who hated politics, who claimed a land and left a piece of himself there, every time his feet carried him away.
What a disaster.
Birdsong (he never cared enough to know each species by heart, by sound) wakes him out of his mesmerising, his feet having carried him from one forest to another, and another. This is the open place that once helped him out of imprisonment, the safety of green canopy hiding him at the time. Right now, his red, silver and golden appearance isn’t easily concealed, but he has a little gift that helps him drape the shadows over himself. He doesn’t in fact fully hide away, the darkness just a bit of a shadow, hardly deeper than this part of the forest anyway.It just helps take away the obvious metallic and icy shine of him, or so he thinks.
Dew still clings to the leaves, this morning, even if it’s almost noon. The roan stallion meanders between the trees looking for... well, he doesn’t know. Perhaps the forest will yield something to him today, perhaps it will only help him realise how badly he doesn’t belong.
He makes a left without really looking where he goes, his hoofs leisurely taking him one way or the other. Old leaves and branches are shuffled away where he passes, new sprouts are shunned in hopes they will grow.
He hasn’t seen a lot of green, lately.
I make no promises
I can’t do golden rings
I can’t do golden rings
Image commissioned by Vanilla, made by AshesDrawn on DA
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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