03-06-2017, 09:04 PM
The male finds himself atop the tall trees, ancient and reaching. The mare, a pretty paint with gold on her hooves, had invited him to visit Sylva on the day he stumbled upon her resting amongst the clouds. She had seem angelic as she peeked behind the frothy churn of white.
Their conversation had gone in passing and he had briefly recalled the land among the trees. On a pleasant day as so, the black stallion decides to venture to this Sylva and interpret the beauty that Djinni so enthusiastically explained.
Heavy feathered hooves move him slowly, leisurely. Lior keeps the leather of his wings at his spine as she chooses to land and walk into the territory like the proper beat he is. No need to storm in like a wild creature and giving the wrong impression. He is just a visitor to a different land, curious of it's layout.
Silver pools watch carefully as he walks, the cold here was much more biting despite the thick shag of his dark pelt. Tangled hair shift and lap against the thickness of his neck with each sullen 'thud'. His demeanor is stoic, lips think as the whiskered jaws expel frost plumes of air, much like the dragon that lay just under his skin. A short call is offered, a quaint announcement of his arrival.
After all, he had not been a savage in some time, but he catches a nip of the breeze. A scent that he had known in passing. Was it salt and cold, wet stone? Quite possibly or he was mistaking it for his own self. But there was something familiar that he could not quiet place.
Lior waits now, cool and patient, like the very rocks that had littered his cave not long ago.
Their conversation had gone in passing and he had briefly recalled the land among the trees. On a pleasant day as so, the black stallion decides to venture to this Sylva and interpret the beauty that Djinni so enthusiastically explained.
Heavy feathered hooves move him slowly, leisurely. Lior keeps the leather of his wings at his spine as she chooses to land and walk into the territory like the proper beat he is. No need to storm in like a wild creature and giving the wrong impression. He is just a visitor to a different land, curious of it's layout.
Silver pools watch carefully as he walks, the cold here was much more biting despite the thick shag of his dark pelt. Tangled hair shift and lap against the thickness of his neck with each sullen 'thud'. His demeanor is stoic, lips think as the whiskered jaws expel frost plumes of air, much like the dragon that lay just under his skin. A short call is offered, a quaint announcement of his arrival.
After all, he had not been a savage in some time, but he catches a nip of the breeze. A scent that he had known in passing. Was it salt and cold, wet stone? Quite possibly or he was mistaking it for his own self. But there was something familiar that he could not quiet place.
Lior waits now, cool and patient, like the very rocks that had littered his cave not long ago.