Our skin gets thicker, living out in the snow
CREVAN
Despite his less-than-casual demeanor, Crevan barks a loud laugh in Lelian’s direction at the mention of his wolfskin. By gods! He thinks, eyes widening at the devilish newcomer, trying hard to pin where and when he’d revealed himself to this one. He doesn’t remember because it’s the mare that would’ve stuck out in his mind that day, but either way he brushes the curiosity aside and bellows deeply in a tone that never quite suited him. He missed the short, whuffing sound of laughing through a wet, pointed nose.
In fact he almost shifts back simply to experience the pleasure of being his normal self, but the crash of heavy footsteps makes him pause.
Aten; or good old King Midas and his songbird. The elder horse (and boy is he truly an elder, listening to him talk) glances sidelong at Crevan but says nothing, to which Crevan grins happily in reply. Words didn’t seem necessary between them. Aten knew exactly where the wolf-horse stood and that was fine with Crevan. Nothing in this world scared him, and no cold shoulder could anger him.
“Oh I think Aten’s capable of that himself, no help from you.” The muddy stallion sighs, “Nice and cool, and empty. And cool.”
“But you keep mentioning ice Leilan. It’s been a minute since my return, help jog my memory. What place in Beqanna has ice?” He asks, leaving the question open for either the scaled horse or his loving buddy Aten to answer.
@[Leilan] @[Aten]