[private] it was not your fault but mine

[Nashua]

stars when you shine, you know how i feel
oh freedom is mine

They kick up dirt and stones between them. The sound is drowned out by the crashing waves below but Nashua might not have heard the sound of falling rocks just as he didn't feel the burn at his heels. His days on the Isle are filled with routine - a spar with the Freyr or his hellhound Commander, patrolling different parts of the once-frozen island to observe the signs of regrowth and to see what parts might (still) need the assistance of Magicians and time spent in the company of Alcinder and Cormorant.

@[Noel] is a literal breath of fresh air.

The white pegasus shakes her head at him and Nash tilts his curiously, not realizing that his enthusiasm for the open sky might be misconstrued as something. A seaward breeze blows past them and tussles his flaxen man, momentarily shielding the pale from his green-eyed gaze. He gives his head a sharp shake to move the forelock out of his face and tries not to feel disappointed by her reluctance. He shouldn't, he knows. They've barely known each other longer than a few wingbeats.

"You're sure your not a Northerner?" he teases with a quirked smile.  The inhabitants had a reputation for being distrustful of outsiders since the usurping of Taiga. It had escalated and only became worse after the attack on the Nerinian queen. Now an outsider was more likely to be intercepted by someone wearing Noel's scowl instead of Nash's easy smile.

His slender head nods to the direction of the offshore crag before he looks to her. "The ill-advised kind, probably." Understanding that his joke about his own recklessness might not be as explanatory as his pale companion would like, Nash elaborated. "A trip out there. It'd be easier to reach if the tide was low but...," the young pegasus shrugs his shoulders. The tide was nearly high and any kind of beach or sandbar that they might have made use of was under several feet of water. Noel doesn't outright refuse his opposition and it brings a bright glint to his eyes. "Scout's honor." He tells her and eagerly flares his wings, ready to take to the sky.

Looking over his shoulder, that eagerness broadens his boyish grin. "Besides it'll be a great spot to practice your landings."

NASHUA

html by castlegraphics; art by MirrorLands