02-05-2020, 11:36 PM
so give me hope in the darkness that I will see the light
'cause oh that gave me such a fright
'cause oh that gave me such a fright
He barely has the patience to wait for the Neverwhere’s response, nearly trembling with the need to follow Jesper. The magician waits for what vague information she does have, but from the faraway look in his eyes it’s probably quite obvious that most of his attention is already somewhere else. He can be infinitely patient, is known for being hard to rile up, but there’s a foolproof way to stoke his temper; it’s to threaten his family.
Usually, Brennen can be relied upon to be at least slightly more reasonable about his adult offspring and descendants. They do, after all, spread out across the whole of Beqanna and make many of their own (sometimes questionable) life choices. He hasn’t, for instance, yet torn apart the world looking for Heartfire, though he is worried about her disappearance. The difference is the target. He is closer to the black stallion than many of his more distant progeny, and he had failed to protect him once before, to his everlasting guilt.
Brennen could honestly give not a single solitary fuck about Taiga, with the very teensiest exception that it is a territory of Nerine, and he is Nerine’s Champion. It is out of the barest thread of responsibility that he could even be poked or prodded into doing anything to keep the weird forest land; unless they challenge for its release or Neverwhere specifically asks him to step in somewhere, Brennen is happy to let the redwood forest fester and fall apart in the hands of whomever wants it. If she chose to give it up, he’d be the first to say ‘good riddance’. But he really, really loathes the idea of his grandson being used as a bargaining chip, and a distant and currently mostly buried part of his brain that is attached to the Icicle Isle as being the part of this world closest resembling his beloved Tundra is reminding him that it sets a nasty precedent to allow another Kingdom to claim one of Nerine’s lands. It is the weaving of this complicated web that keeps him anchored to Nerine long enough for whatever words she has to be heard, though whether he chooses to heed them or not will be anyone’s guess.
Wrapping up with Neverwhere, or at least reaching a pause, he doesn’t bother with walking or flying or even a farewell; he definitely doesn’t bother to wait politely at the border of Loess. Teleportation brings him instantly to interior of the other Kingdom, red dust rising around his hooves when he appears. Fury grips his heart, a thin veil over fear that comes from memories of finding Jesper after Sylva. Sylva, a part of this godforsaken territory. Sylva, long home to monsters of all shapes and sizes. Every line of his body is braced, tensed, his wings half mantled and his ears disappearing into the thick coils of his black mane. It has been decades since he engaged in this sort of aggressive posturing, preferring other negotiating techniques, but he wonders if threat is the only language they might understand here.
The sound that comes from his throat can’t be classified as a summons, or a call; perhaps bellow or scream might be a closer description. It’s wordless, though the meaning and feelings behind it is not at all vague. At the same time a pulse of magic escapes the hold he has on his boiling temper, sending a layer of ice shooting across the Kingdom in every direction from underneath the stallion’s hooves. It won’t last long, the unintentional ice sheet already melting in the heat of summer, but it matches the cold ice in his voice when he raises it again, this time forming distinct names instead of pure emotion.
@[Wolfbane]. @[Lepis]. @[Castile]. @[Jesper]. The man who’d stolen his grandson, the woman he’d blamed, the King in charge of this place, and the fox-shifter they better hope they haven’t dared to harm.
Usually, Brennen can be relied upon to be at least slightly more reasonable about his adult offspring and descendants. They do, after all, spread out across the whole of Beqanna and make many of their own (sometimes questionable) life choices. He hasn’t, for instance, yet torn apart the world looking for Heartfire, though he is worried about her disappearance. The difference is the target. He is closer to the black stallion than many of his more distant progeny, and he had failed to protect him once before, to his everlasting guilt.
Brennen could honestly give not a single solitary fuck about Taiga, with the very teensiest exception that it is a territory of Nerine, and he is Nerine’s Champion. It is out of the barest thread of responsibility that he could even be poked or prodded into doing anything to keep the weird forest land; unless they challenge for its release or Neverwhere specifically asks him to step in somewhere, Brennen is happy to let the redwood forest fester and fall apart in the hands of whomever wants it. If she chose to give it up, he’d be the first to say ‘good riddance’. But he really, really loathes the idea of his grandson being used as a bargaining chip, and a distant and currently mostly buried part of his brain that is attached to the Icicle Isle as being the part of this world closest resembling his beloved Tundra is reminding him that it sets a nasty precedent to allow another Kingdom to claim one of Nerine’s lands. It is the weaving of this complicated web that keeps him anchored to Nerine long enough for whatever words she has to be heard, though whether he chooses to heed them or not will be anyone’s guess.
Wrapping up with Neverwhere, or at least reaching a pause, he doesn’t bother with walking or flying or even a farewell; he definitely doesn’t bother to wait politely at the border of Loess. Teleportation brings him instantly to interior of the other Kingdom, red dust rising around his hooves when he appears. Fury grips his heart, a thin veil over fear that comes from memories of finding Jesper after Sylva. Sylva, a part of this godforsaken territory. Sylva, long home to monsters of all shapes and sizes. Every line of his body is braced, tensed, his wings half mantled and his ears disappearing into the thick coils of his black mane. It has been decades since he engaged in this sort of aggressive posturing, preferring other negotiating techniques, but he wonders if threat is the only language they might understand here.
The sound that comes from his throat can’t be classified as a summons, or a call; perhaps bellow or scream might be a closer description. It’s wordless, though the meaning and feelings behind it is not at all vague. At the same time a pulse of magic escapes the hold he has on his boiling temper, sending a layer of ice shooting across the Kingdom in every direction from underneath the stallion’s hooves. It won’t last long, the unintentional ice sheet already melting in the heat of summer, but it matches the cold ice in his voice when he raises it again, this time forming distinct names instead of pure emotion.
@[Wolfbane]. @[Lepis]. @[Castile]. @[Jesper]. The man who’d stolen his grandson, the woman he’d blamed, the King in charge of this place, and the fox-shifter they better hope they haven’t dared to harm.
but I will hold, as long as you like
just promise me we'll be alright
just promise me we'll be alright
BrenneN
look I'm sorry he insisted on being written Right Now so he ya go for whatever it's worth :|