"With my speechless calm eyes."
With his sight restored, his wish granted by Djinni, there had been things that the graying man had to do first. Well, that was after he had calmed down enough of course. The fight that he had had with himself and the imaginary voice in his head had taken him a few days, utterly confused and struggling with the fact that the one he had relied on for years didn’t even exist. After that Brynmor had gone back home, to face the winged gray king and tell him about the truth after his arrival at the Tundra. And with that done there was room for other things to do.
He still wasn’t that used to his regained sight again, found it strange to walk familiar paths while he at the same time discovered them for the first time. Then there was still the voice in his head and Brynmor had a hard time to not fall back in his old habits. Even though he now knew that the voice only existed in his head, he always had to fight to not reply. There were moments he gave in, but that was only if he was utterly sure that nobody else was around and that their conversation was private. But right now that also wasn’t the thing that kept him busy. No, the graying male was looking for one of the rare female’s that lived in the Tundra; Roan.
If he would be honest he would easily admit that she hadn’t left his mind for long periods. Right from when they first met – although he hadn’t been too welcoming at first – he had felt comfortable around her. It had sparked something within him and he was eager to see Roan again, or actually, to see her for the first time. Brynmor had never been close to other horses and he couldn’t even remember his mother, but that all didn’t change anything about the fact that now longed to be at her side again. With his loyalty pledged to the Tundra the formerly blind stallion was more than ready to get to know her better.
He calls out for her and his whinny travels easily across the snow covered lands. Even though the spring had kicked in the Tundra’s lands were still covered with snow and things would stay like that until the summer would come. The gray male lifts his head, his nose searching for her scent, as he couldn’t rely on his newly gained sight right now. He follows his nose, still trusting his ‘old’ senses more than the new one, and eventually forces himself into a trot. Not used to any form of exercise he is soon panting and he clearly lacks some balance, but he does no longer stumble across the things he cannot see.
”Roan.”
"Nothing is coming to rise."
@[roan]