04-21-2023, 09:26 PM
Sometimes he wonders what it would have been like, to be a Baltian blessed with wings - and, subsequently, four working legs - instead of his powerful kelpie tail. Would water wings propel him through the water as swiftly as his fins? Probably not, but he would be less bound to bodies of water and allowed more freedom. If not for the vastness of the ocean and Beqanna’s other bodies of water, perhaps he would feel trapped and envious of winged Baltians, but instead, he’s just curious.
It is those with flight he watches as the sun passes overhead, watching the paths they cut through the sky with sharp eyes. He supposes the ones that are but small specks in the sky are the Stratosians - used to the thinner air, essentially part bird as they dart in and out of Tharion’s sight. In the water, he could see for miles, especially in the deepest parts of the ocean. Is that how their eyes work, in the sky?
With a quiet grumble, he pulls his attention back to those nearby, and it is just in time to watch the young mare falter in her approach. A look of friendly amusement crosses his face as she continues to approach and he makes no move to push himself into more of an upright position, remaining relaxed upon the shore. She is interesting; her coloring and eyes remind her of familiar Baltians, but something tells him that she is not entirely suited for life in Baltia.
“I am, indeed,” he agrees with a nod, eyes sparkling with mirth. “You aren’t, though.” He’s never been one to speak glibly or in riddles, instead choosing to get straight to the point. “Your father was from Baltia, but what of your mother?”
Almost an afterthought at this point, he offers his own name. “I’m Tharion.”
@Raea
It is those with flight he watches as the sun passes overhead, watching the paths they cut through the sky with sharp eyes. He supposes the ones that are but small specks in the sky are the Stratosians - used to the thinner air, essentially part bird as they dart in and out of Tharion’s sight. In the water, he could see for miles, especially in the deepest parts of the ocean. Is that how their eyes work, in the sky?
With a quiet grumble, he pulls his attention back to those nearby, and it is just in time to watch the young mare falter in her approach. A look of friendly amusement crosses his face as she continues to approach and he makes no move to push himself into more of an upright position, remaining relaxed upon the shore. She is interesting; her coloring and eyes remind her of familiar Baltians, but something tells him that she is not entirely suited for life in Baltia.
“I am, indeed,” he agrees with a nod, eyes sparkling with mirth. “You aren’t, though.” He’s never been one to speak glibly or in riddles, instead choosing to get straight to the point. “Your father was from Baltia, but what of your mother?”
Almost an afterthought at this point, he offers his own name. “I’m Tharion.”
@Raea