Leilan
Glaciers melting in the dead of night
and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
The man visibly relaxes under Leilan’s observation that none could trespass where there is no ruler (no ruler means no real border, although how the man could unintendedly swim the cold waters without noticing he had arrived here was a bit of a mystery to the scaled roan, he would not comment further). Instead, the ice-bearing chestnut recieves a friendly grin and that’s about it, concerning this subject.
Tephra, and living there, gets more attention from Scholar, which is just as well. A normal story, one of love although it is not told from that perspective; one of family and respect (something that sometimes lacks in his own family, sadly). A normal story.
The ice-and-red man likes the comment, for a compliment that it is. To some, perhaps being normal would have been an offense, but like many of Leilan’s comments, be them snippy, sassy or well-meant like this one, half the time they get mistaken for direct insults. Sometimes he means to poke and prod, sure. But the silver bay roan has too many things on his mind lately to do so, and in all seriousness, he likes this stallion quite a lot.
The scaled stallion smiles a bit at the comment at ‘whoever they are’, to wish them luck. He’s supposed to be one of them, but even if another is chosen, luck is surely needed. This island is being fought over for reasons he doesn’t comprehend still, and like he’d told the salt-and-pepper stallion before, he suspected it was because it had seemed easy to some of them. At this point though, he only continued to fight for it because he didn’t want two of them to win it. Because he figured it might be better to pick a fifth, one they could all support in some manner or another. But to retreat without having that figured out first, was basically giving up. So, he just smiles and then makes a somewhat shrugging motion. ”Everybody needs a bit of luck in politics, I suppose.”
And still this island called to him. Appealed to the ice-scaled stallion in a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Perhaps it was because the brotherhood where he’d been a part of, had always lived in the Tundra (despite the fact that he had not lived there in that time). Or because he was bearing and spitting ice, and cold-resistant at that. Or because this place, safe by faerie magic, reminded him of the fairy herself. Reminded him to be modest enough.
”Well, if you need a change of temperature or scenery, I wouldn’t mind having you here a bit longer than a few hours. I never know if it’s lonely or busy out here.”
Tephra, and living there, gets more attention from Scholar, which is just as well. A normal story, one of love although it is not told from that perspective; one of family and respect (something that sometimes lacks in his own family, sadly). A normal story.
The ice-and-red man likes the comment, for a compliment that it is. To some, perhaps being normal would have been an offense, but like many of Leilan’s comments, be them snippy, sassy or well-meant like this one, half the time they get mistaken for direct insults. Sometimes he means to poke and prod, sure. But the silver bay roan has too many things on his mind lately to do so, and in all seriousness, he likes this stallion quite a lot.
The scaled stallion smiles a bit at the comment at ‘whoever they are’, to wish them luck. He’s supposed to be one of them, but even if another is chosen, luck is surely needed. This island is being fought over for reasons he doesn’t comprehend still, and like he’d told the salt-and-pepper stallion before, he suspected it was because it had seemed easy to some of them. At this point though, he only continued to fight for it because he didn’t want two of them to win it. Because he figured it might be better to pick a fifth, one they could all support in some manner or another. But to retreat without having that figured out first, was basically giving up. So, he just smiles and then makes a somewhat shrugging motion. ”Everybody needs a bit of luck in politics, I suppose.”
And still this island called to him. Appealed to the ice-scaled stallion in a way he couldn’t quite pinpoint. Perhaps it was because the brotherhood where he’d been a part of, had always lived in the Tundra (despite the fact that he had not lived there in that time). Or because he was bearing and spitting ice, and cold-resistant at that. Or because this place, safe by faerie magic, reminded him of the fairy herself. Reminded him to be modest enough.
”Well, if you need a change of temperature or scenery, I wouldn’t mind having you here a bit longer than a few hours. I never know if it’s lonely or busy out here.”
you set my soul alight
@[Scholar]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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