03-26-2018, 01:20 AM
hold me in this wild, wild world
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
The world has changed around him, and he lives for the bright spots that feel either familiar or good – because they aren’t always the same, and there certainly aren’t enough things that are both. But strangely enough, his two worlds are colliding and he thinks the result might be something he can live with. It might even be better than that – it might be something he loves. But it’s not quite done, this new thing, and it takes careful planning and his supervision, and it’s going to take bodies. Not just any bodies – good, strong, smart, loyal bodies. So not just any man he meets, but carefully cultivated recruits, and so he spends some of that precious time searching for likely candidates.
But he certainly wasn’t expecting to see a familiar face, here where the river comes bubbling and burbling across the rocks and the plants. It takes him a minute of watching from afar to place the familiar face, to match a name to it, but when he does he immediately changes directions and comes towards the light-colored stallion, nickering a friendly greeting as he approaches. “Brynmor!” he grins at the other, and tries to stay in the present, letting the memories flash across the back of his mind but refusing to be caught up in them.
He hadn’t been Hurricane’s biggest fan, he’d admit to that freely, but despite the attitude problems Brennen was convinced the man had, he’d been a strong and loyal Brother of the Tundra. They might have butted heads a few times, but they’d also come together when it counted the most, like when they drove the insane Mountain from their throne. His memories of Brynmor are fuzzier, but also decidedly more pleasant. He would be pleased to bring the pale stallion back into the fold of the Brotherhood, but it has to be something the other stallion wants as well. “What are you up to, these days?”
But he certainly wasn’t expecting to see a familiar face, here where the river comes bubbling and burbling across the rocks and the plants. It takes him a minute of watching from afar to place the familiar face, to match a name to it, but when he does he immediately changes directions and comes towards the light-colored stallion, nickering a friendly greeting as he approaches. “Brynmor!” he grins at the other, and tries to stay in the present, letting the memories flash across the back of his mind but refusing to be caught up in them.
He hadn’t been Hurricane’s biggest fan, he’d admit to that freely, but despite the attitude problems Brennen was convinced the man had, he’d been a strong and loyal Brother of the Tundra. They might have butted heads a few times, but they’d also come together when it counted the most, like when they drove the insane Mountain from their throne. His memories of Brynmor are fuzzier, but also decidedly more pleasant. He would be pleased to bring the pale stallion back into the fold of the Brotherhood, but it has to be something the other stallion wants as well. “What are you up to, these days?”
hold me in this wild, wild world
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
BRENNEN