02-19-2019, 11:28 AM
We got older and I should have known
that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
that I’d feel colder when I walk alone
He is, in fact, a little moody. She calls it moping around which is maybe what it looks like. Looking up, he spies the grey girl - mare, he corrects himself, as he would have to do with his own daughter too - Arthas’ child, all grown up and probably as prone to getting under his skin as the andalusian stallion himself.
To think, perhaps by going so quickly, the man saved himself a lot of trouble with this Plague and the political disturbances of it. Fighting over the new lands had largely passed by him, though Leilan would never have called him fortunate. No, for that the grey had been too damaged. Too much what Leilan himself could become if he didn’t take care.
Looking at it from a wide, faraway view most would say that Leilan has a pretty good life. Friends, a wife and kids, and even ruling a land. But what it costs to maintain all of it - what it costs to let go - they wouldn’t (want to, have to) know about.
But the thing is, he doesn’t want to spoil life for Mary, so he looks up with a shrug. ”Just one of those days. We need some time off, now and then, don’t you agree?” Surely she would agree, that’s why she’s here.
One who knew him better might know that this is a little off - or just different - from what he might have done or said in response a year ago. Less annoying (he still can be), less of a joker about it (might be more grimm jokes these days). But Mary isn’t one of those, he thinks, and he’s not exactly planning on being besties with his old rival’s young daughter (no offense meant but he’s still twice her age and in this moment, he feels it more than ever, a mental weight of too many experiences preventing him from joking or even telling her still relatively light soul about it). Acquaintances that keep running into one another, that’s as far as they could go - not necessarily a bad thing. Just a simple (or not so simple), neutral fact.
A breath intake follows, and he continues. ”The Isle doesn’t provide much food for a lot of recruiting. It’s a bit of a downer, I guess. But I’m sure Sylva has its own troubles.” That small fact is one of many small things, but enough of an explanation for right now. Musing, he looks past her towards where the Field and Meadow must be. ”The Plague still scaring people into the safe lands, is it?” he questions, eyeing her then. A wild guess as to why she’s here, he thinks - the excuse of recruiting to escape whatever troubles might be at home.
To think, perhaps by going so quickly, the man saved himself a lot of trouble with this Plague and the political disturbances of it. Fighting over the new lands had largely passed by him, though Leilan would never have called him fortunate. No, for that the grey had been too damaged. Too much what Leilan himself could become if he didn’t take care.
Looking at it from a wide, faraway view most would say that Leilan has a pretty good life. Friends, a wife and kids, and even ruling a land. But what it costs to maintain all of it - what it costs to let go - they wouldn’t (want to, have to) know about.
But the thing is, he doesn’t want to spoil life for Mary, so he looks up with a shrug. ”Just one of those days. We need some time off, now and then, don’t you agree?” Surely she would agree, that’s why she’s here.
One who knew him better might know that this is a little off - or just different - from what he might have done or said in response a year ago. Less annoying (he still can be), less of a joker about it (might be more grimm jokes these days). But Mary isn’t one of those, he thinks, and he’s not exactly planning on being besties with his old rival’s young daughter (no offense meant but he’s still twice her age and in this moment, he feels it more than ever, a mental weight of too many experiences preventing him from joking or even telling her still relatively light soul about it). Acquaintances that keep running into one another, that’s as far as they could go - not necessarily a bad thing. Just a simple (or not so simple), neutral fact.
A breath intake follows, and he continues. ”The Isle doesn’t provide much food for a lot of recruiting. It’s a bit of a downer, I guess. But I’m sure Sylva has its own troubles.” That small fact is one of many small things, but enough of an explanation for right now. Musing, he looks past her towards where the Field and Meadow must be. ”The Plague still scaring people into the safe lands, is it?” he questions, eyeing her then. A wild guess as to why she’s here, he thinks - the excuse of recruiting to escape whatever troubles might be at home.
Leilan
no. 7 | ice forged in fire
@[Mary]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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