12-04-2017, 02:47 AM
To be in the warmest part of the day was unusual for him as he prefered to stay within the mouth of his damp cave but he had waited for Nayl to come to him and lay within the warmth of his embrace since she had handed the crown to their daughter.
But she had not come.
Lior, knowing his iron woman, has figured she had parting words to offer and perhaps some advice. Nearly a week passes before he decides to venture outward. Like a loyal beast, he stood nearly day and night, looking east for the painted form. He had felt that it was time to retire and time to rest. Isobell had her followers already and he had heard she had her own suitors as well that he would make an effort to "meet" soon. But for now, Lior was content with simply going through the motions.
Heavy hooves draw him out of Nerine for the first in years. The black stallion is simply as such, no hint of the dragon that lay dormant in him, scars running like fine veins across his dark hide. His silver eyes seem to float against the inky darkness of his face as he looks at his surroundings to admire the way the vines twist up tree trunks like thirsty arms. Flowers of vivid colors catch his eyes and even lift the faint edges of his lips once he has pushed the knotted hair from his eyes. Deep breathes draw in the moisture of the thriving forest and he wonders how he has never ventured here before. The dark man finds a place to stop and draw a cool drink from a small stream as the sounds of lively birdsong met his ears.
But she had not come.
Lior, knowing his iron woman, has figured she had parting words to offer and perhaps some advice. Nearly a week passes before he decides to venture outward. Like a loyal beast, he stood nearly day and night, looking east for the painted form. He had felt that it was time to retire and time to rest. Isobell had her followers already and he had heard she had her own suitors as well that he would make an effort to "meet" soon. But for now, Lior was content with simply going through the motions.
Heavy hooves draw him out of Nerine for the first in years. The black stallion is simply as such, no hint of the dragon that lay dormant in him, scars running like fine veins across his dark hide. His silver eyes seem to float against the inky darkness of his face as he looks at his surroundings to admire the way the vines twist up tree trunks like thirsty arms. Flowers of vivid colors catch his eyes and even lift the faint edges of his lips once he has pushed the knotted hair from his eyes. Deep breathes draw in the moisture of the thriving forest and he wonders how he has never ventured here before. The dark man finds a place to stop and draw a cool drink from a small stream as the sounds of lively birdsong met his ears.
I want you to remember