great clouds rolling over the hills
and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel
They are mostly still reeling from the absence of magic, and so many of the forms milling about the Meadow are unusually drab. Oh, they’ve always had their mix of natural and unnatural but one gets a sense of who is not used to being normal – she has the sense, can see the unease about him, as he can pick out some amongst those he watches that just aren’t right. The sound of an approach brings his head around from staring absently into the distance, instead focusing his hazel eyes onto the mare who greets him.
He isn’t prone to jealously, or at least he wasn’t before, but when his head-to-hoof examination of her settles briefly on the dragon wings folded gracefully at her sides before he returns his gaze to her face. The skin at his withers twitches, nearly out of his control, as he instinctively wants to shuffle and resettle his own inky black wings. Something hot and unpleasant flares in his gut but Brennen forces a smile instead, filing away the other details about her physical appearance in his warrior brain and keeping his eyes from lingering on the wings. “Brennen,” he offers his name in response, and then tilts his head just slightly before proffering further response.
“Formerly of the Tundra, though I suppose that is no longer an appropriate greeting in this brave new world.” The bay shifts, still uncomfortable spending so much time on the solid ground even these many months later, and can’t help but give the mare an ironic half-smile, a short chuckle; “You seem to have recovered rather better than I.”