03-24-2016, 10:46 PM
you're waiting for me to fail, that ship will never sail
His first memories were of the bitter cold and his mothers harsh voice. She was not overly maternal but he didn’t do without, even in the unyielding lands they called home. She told him that his father lived here but they had never crossed paths, his mother keeping him hidden more often than not. Despite her gruffness she was proud of her bay son, with his black downy wings and fine features. He was a child worthy of the bloodlines he carried, worthy of the land he would call home. Because of his raising he had been a stoic child, a trait that had carried even more so into his young adult life. His temper ran like lava; hot and unyielding, but easy to avoid if one read the warnings. It did not flare suddenly or run rampant like wild-fire. Nothing he did involved much fanfare, at least not up to this point. Up until now he had simply been existing- now was the time for him to start living.
Mother had left almost a year ago, leaving Brison behind to brave the harshness of the Tundra. The bay had done an immense amount of growing, both physically and mentally, in a short amount of time. He was certainly better for those experiences, and he was coming into his own with his eyes wide open. Though he was still stoic, he was learning a sense of loyalty that his mother had never taught him. He was quickly learning that the Tundra held that new-found loyalty. There was something about the place that called to him. Perhaps it was the overall ruggedness of the place, or the unyielding harshness. Only the strong and the fit would survive here, and he had proven himself to be just that. The kingdom had pushed him and pulled from him more than he had ever known he even had to give. It was high time for him to start repaying that debt.
Standing with his face to the north, the bitter breeze lifting his mane from his neck and ruffling the glossy black feathers of his wings, he called to them. To the king, to the brothers. At his side stood a skeletal snow leopard. It did not snarl or growl, but simply stood, the bones being manipulated by Brison himself. It was not there to bolster his own confidence, but rather to show the king and brothers what he had to offer to the kingdom. As the wind continued to blow he continued to wait, stoic as he always was. But beneath that carefully lacquered exterior was a tinge of excitement.
brison
winged, immortal, bone-bending son of brennen and bitch