07-19-2020, 07:21 AM
Brennen may or may not be an over-achiever. That much Leilan would understand from his words and subsequent behaviour, anyway. Not that he doesn't appreciate the man going out of his way to protect Nerine, even if his ties to the land currently are lessened to a feeling of melancholy, of ties to what once was, of people who had been. It is perhaps the same sort of pull that Leilan himself feels towards the lands here - if the North isn't his home, then what is?
His niece had tried to continue what was, he thinks, giving the crown to Neverwhere. The silver dapple mare has a similar sentiment about her as the sabino blue roan, not unlike the silver roan himself. Yet the dragon shifter, in his icy home far away from the heat of politics, has seen the coming and going of queens just about enough to realize that nothing is ever truly the same. Hestia had been feared, in a way - or her demon friend had. Scorch had been desperate to find a successor, and the wild Wishbone hadn't ruled so long after all. Breckin had been almost her opposite, and the circle raced back to Heartfire - almost equally terrifying as the black mare had been.
But had Nerine ever adapted to the changes of the world? No, not since the merge with the Brotherhood it hadn't, and even that seemed a questionable form or adaptation in retrospect. Nerine survived purely on stubbornness, but it's reputation was faltering.
This realization is something he brings with him silently, when he nears the winged bay magician in the northern waters of the lands. Silently he watches him a while, emerged in the water, and seeing that it won't last. But the bay Arabian hybrid doesn't seem to notice him or his thoughts - if he does, perhaps only on a subconscious level, or in such a way that he doesn't listen to Leilan's thoughts. Too busy perhaps with that tingling net that even Leilan feels right now, when he is so close to the source. It wouldn't surprise him to find it strewn over not only Nerine, but any of the places the magician has familial ties to.
That must be exhausting.
He diverges from his trip back home, choosing to approach the magician in his element. Saltwater waves crash on his knees, the newly-made tattoos almost absorbing the water (they don't, the droplets stick to his skin, but it practically looks that way). He stops short of touching the elder male in front of him, studying his unseeing eyes and wrinkled features. "Brennen." he calls softly. Not much but the fact that it is his name. "You know they'll just wait for you to tire." It's no use exerting yourself before an inevitable fight, he's trying to say. The bay would know better than that. Should know better, at least. It's not like the stoic magician to be this emotionally involved. Unless... "Who else is being threatened?"
In other words - where do you need met to go?
His niece had tried to continue what was, he thinks, giving the crown to Neverwhere. The silver dapple mare has a similar sentiment about her as the sabino blue roan, not unlike the silver roan himself. Yet the dragon shifter, in his icy home far away from the heat of politics, has seen the coming and going of queens just about enough to realize that nothing is ever truly the same. Hestia had been feared, in a way - or her demon friend had. Scorch had been desperate to find a successor, and the wild Wishbone hadn't ruled so long after all. Breckin had been almost her opposite, and the circle raced back to Heartfire - almost equally terrifying as the black mare had been.
But had Nerine ever adapted to the changes of the world? No, not since the merge with the Brotherhood it hadn't, and even that seemed a questionable form or adaptation in retrospect. Nerine survived purely on stubbornness, but it's reputation was faltering.
This realization is something he brings with him silently, when he nears the winged bay magician in the northern waters of the lands. Silently he watches him a while, emerged in the water, and seeing that it won't last. But the bay Arabian hybrid doesn't seem to notice him or his thoughts - if he does, perhaps only on a subconscious level, or in such a way that he doesn't listen to Leilan's thoughts. Too busy perhaps with that tingling net that even Leilan feels right now, when he is so close to the source. It wouldn't surprise him to find it strewn over not only Nerine, but any of the places the magician has familial ties to.
That must be exhausting.
He diverges from his trip back home, choosing to approach the magician in his element. Saltwater waves crash on his knees, the newly-made tattoos almost absorbing the water (they don't, the droplets stick to his skin, but it practically looks that way). He stops short of touching the elder male in front of him, studying his unseeing eyes and wrinkled features. "Brennen." he calls softly. Not much but the fact that it is his name. "You know they'll just wait for you to tire." It's no use exerting yourself before an inevitable fight, he's trying to say. The bay would know better than that. Should know better, at least. It's not like the stoic magician to be this emotionally involved. Unless... "Who else is being threatened?"
In other words - where do you need met to go?
nothing burns like the cold
Leilan
@[Brennen] *shrugs*
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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