06-03-2018, 12:40 AM
He has been restless for some weeks, sleeping little and worried nearly to the point of actually expressing his irritation in the form of lashing out. He hadn’t, of course, in fact he had been extra careful to treat his Brothers and his family with only the utmost care, but those close to him have watched him start to fall apart as his family - chosen and by blood - have left, disappeared, or come to harm. So on the day that Jesper is due to leave Sylva, Brennen is ready to explode. He is standing on the shore, and by the time the sun has begun to climb the sky he cannot wait any longer.
He crosses the sea on wing, but it does no good to fly, not when Jesper would be land-bound, so the bay stallion tucks his dark wings close to his sides and sets off on foot, following the most likely trail from Ischia towards Sylva: through the River. It isn’t far but he forces himself to a measured pace, head up and looking around carefully to make sure he doesn’t miss any sign or signal of his grandson’s whereabouts. He has steeled himself to need to travel all the way to Sylvia, to wrest Jesper from the jaws of his captors, Still, the sound of the black stallion’s familiar voice raised in a desperate cry is a shocking sound, and Brennen pivots and shoots off in that direction before conscious thought catches up.
He’s expecting a threat, a fight, and so his ears are pinned and his eyes narrowed and his body stiff as he barrels towards them. If the two stallions converging on Jesper’s prone form were not intimately familiar to the bay King, they might have found themselves under serious attack. Thankfully, he recognizes his orange-and-white son and Scorch’s son instantly, and stops himself from lunging, instead hesitating while Leilan lowers himself beside Jesper and taking the time to catalog every visible injury and every hurt he imagines lurks beneath the surface; Modicum Mortem and his lackeys will pay for every bruise and cut delivered to his grandson, and every nightmare he has going forward.
Brennen is seething, for once a true fire-hot rage instead of his impassive icy temper. It is all he can do to push down that red-hot fury, and gentle his voice and posture for the benefit of his Brothers. Still - he is sure when he meets Bel and Leilan’s gazes over the form of their suffering Brother, they can see what the future of the Brotherhood might hold. Brennen is not driven lightly to take blood in true battle, but he is protective to an insane degree and this is quite beyond the pale.
He steps forward to the black-and-bronze stallion’s free side, lowering his dark muzzle gently to some portion of Jesper that seems unharmed by burns (his mind flashes to Scorch and he almost sends Belgaer to their ally with this news immediately, but he knows he has time to care for Jesper first) he blows gently across the younger man’s skin, a comforting wordless gesture to prelude anything else. “This is not a place to rest,” he rumbles at the boys, lifting his eyes again to scan for anything that should not be. “Come now, let us get safely to Ischia.” He touches another part of Jesper and feels the anger surging again, the desire to rip the Sylvan King limb from limb. “Can you walk?”
He waits for a reply and then lifts his gaze to his son, to Jesper’s uncle. “Bel, can you fly to Nerine and then to Tephra, and to Hyaline? I would like to meet with Warwick, Scorch, and Solace together as soon as we can possibly arrange for it.”
He crosses the sea on wing, but it does no good to fly, not when Jesper would be land-bound, so the bay stallion tucks his dark wings close to his sides and sets off on foot, following the most likely trail from Ischia towards Sylva: through the River. It isn’t far but he forces himself to a measured pace, head up and looking around carefully to make sure he doesn’t miss any sign or signal of his grandson’s whereabouts. He has steeled himself to need to travel all the way to Sylvia, to wrest Jesper from the jaws of his captors, Still, the sound of the black stallion’s familiar voice raised in a desperate cry is a shocking sound, and Brennen pivots and shoots off in that direction before conscious thought catches up.
He’s expecting a threat, a fight, and so his ears are pinned and his eyes narrowed and his body stiff as he barrels towards them. If the two stallions converging on Jesper’s prone form were not intimately familiar to the bay King, they might have found themselves under serious attack. Thankfully, he recognizes his orange-and-white son and Scorch’s son instantly, and stops himself from lunging, instead hesitating while Leilan lowers himself beside Jesper and taking the time to catalog every visible injury and every hurt he imagines lurks beneath the surface; Modicum Mortem and his lackeys will pay for every bruise and cut delivered to his grandson, and every nightmare he has going forward.
Brennen is seething, for once a true fire-hot rage instead of his impassive icy temper. It is all he can do to push down that red-hot fury, and gentle his voice and posture for the benefit of his Brothers. Still - he is sure when he meets Bel and Leilan’s gazes over the form of their suffering Brother, they can see what the future of the Brotherhood might hold. Brennen is not driven lightly to take blood in true battle, but he is protective to an insane degree and this is quite beyond the pale.
He steps forward to the black-and-bronze stallion’s free side, lowering his dark muzzle gently to some portion of Jesper that seems unharmed by burns (his mind flashes to Scorch and he almost sends Belgaer to their ally with this news immediately, but he knows he has time to care for Jesper first) he blows gently across the younger man’s skin, a comforting wordless gesture to prelude anything else. “This is not a place to rest,” he rumbles at the boys, lifting his eyes again to scan for anything that should not be. “Come now, let us get safely to Ischia.” He touches another part of Jesper and feels the anger surging again, the desire to rip the Sylvan King limb from limb. “Can you walk?”
He waits for a reply and then lifts his gaze to his son, to Jesper’s uncle. “Bel, can you fly to Nerine and then to Tephra, and to Hyaline? I would like to meet with Warwick, Scorch, and Solace together as soon as we can possibly arrange for it.”