03-08-2022, 01:51 AM
Initially, there is only one kind face between the three of them. The bay roan gets a cold glare from the red-eyed male, but his own bright blues fix on the slim, stone-covered mare. She tries hard to remember and so does the spiky roan; when she asks her question he had already opened his mouth to ask if she’s Cheri - she had gone to Loess, he remembers Yanhua saying. Technically that would make him her uncle, but as with most families, relations did not abide to time or generations, as he was born younger than her.
Her question collides with his, ”Are you from the South?” - a deduction he directs at all three of them. He then nods quickly to the Chrystal mare - distracted enough (and used to such looks as from Obscene by now) that he answers her, first. ”Roselin’s on the Isle, with Nash and dad.” The ice-breathing twin had loved the idea of living in the snow and while Oren certainly didn’t mind, he also hadn’t cared enough to officially move.
But others had. ”Some.” He answer the mare who looks too much like mother to be a coincidence. ”Nobody who deals in politics though.” he tells them then: the chestnut mare who might otherwise ask about mom, the dark fae stallion who would want a diplomat or a leader, to which Oren cannot direct him, and Cheri, who should know that her family, too, wouldn’t show up today.
He seems to regain some sense with that answer - he doesn’t look at the eerily familiar chestnut, but looks to Obscene who, despite his best efforts, reminds Oren of his father. Something in the way he smirks, cold but not entirely so. And besides, that is the reason Oren was born with an immunity to the cold, right? So he should be fine with cold glares, he’d reason. ”Are you taking over? Why you, and not,” he looks back to Cheri, ”You? Are you hurt?” he asks while he realises she doesn’t look entirely at the top of her game. ”Should I fetch Reave of Nashua?” he then blurts out. Again he is late with the realisation, but maybe that’s what they’re here for. Other leaders.
Her question collides with his, ”Are you from the South?” - a deduction he directs at all three of them. He then nods quickly to the Chrystal mare - distracted enough (and used to such looks as from Obscene by now) that he answers her, first. ”Roselin’s on the Isle, with Nash and dad.” The ice-breathing twin had loved the idea of living in the snow and while Oren certainly didn’t mind, he also hadn’t cared enough to officially move.
But others had. ”Some.” He answer the mare who looks too much like mother to be a coincidence. ”Nobody who deals in politics though.” he tells them then: the chestnut mare who might otherwise ask about mom, the dark fae stallion who would want a diplomat or a leader, to which Oren cannot direct him, and Cheri, who should know that her family, too, wouldn’t show up today.
He seems to regain some sense with that answer - he doesn’t look at the eerily familiar chestnut, but looks to Obscene who, despite his best efforts, reminds Oren of his father. Something in the way he smirks, cold but not entirely so. And besides, that is the reason Oren was born with an immunity to the cold, right? So he should be fine with cold glares, he’d reason. ”Are you taking over? Why you, and not,” he looks back to Cheri, ”You? Are you hurt?” he asks while he realises she doesn’t look entirely at the top of her game. ”Should I fetch Reave of Nashua?” he then blurts out. Again he is late with the realisation, but maybe that’s what they’re here for. Other leaders.
Oren
I'll follow you when the stars go blue
@Cheri you’re up first so I’m lazy and only tagging you. Here’s Oren’s first (im)famous questions