[open] Winter has come [any]

[vaughan]

I shall wear no crowns and win no glory

Vaughan knows little about the inhabitants of the Tundra, up until recently that hadn't been a problem - a bachelor herd made sense to be isolated, away from one another. He was working on being less secluded regardless of how progressive the process was. Today was as good as any, it was the cusp of winter and although many lands in Beqanna were turning a cheek he welcomed it. There was a certain bite to the air when the seasons changed, a chill that crept up your spine like two soft fingers in the night; goosebumps ensue. It is short lived though as he stands, basking in the winter sun's glory as he witnesses a small gathering commence.

Brynmor - Maribel, he assumes; never meeting but heard of no doubt and a ice-ladder newcomer with a colt? Strange.

The black stallion really had no choice, he was genetically predisposed to be curious about things and his duty to the Tundra was to protect and guard so he doesn't hesitate to make his way over to the group. Vaughan is not shocked by the other newcomers appearance, he knew that realistically anything was possible in these lands and he was likely more rare of a breed to be deemed 'normal' The floppy ear lieutenant gives a curt nod to Brynmor, who as of late had seemed permanently perturbed by some of the happenings and choices; though Vaughan had questions, he didn't consider himself so important as to consult on the matter. At the end of each short day in the Tundra, the decisions were Offspring's and he, for one, was thankful that responsibility was not hoisted upon his shoulders. "Brynmor, Maribel; the princess I presume?" a kind smile, though it doesn't last for long as he listens to both of the more diplomatic beings welcome the stallion and colt, he stares at them both. "Ah from the Dale, are you? Seems like you wouldn't bring a young colt to a diplomatic meeting though, so I feel as though it's safe to assume you're not here for such." he assumes, though he doesn't truly know, eyeing the ice stallion, "I'm Vaughan, you've already been welcomed so yes, pray tell what can we do for you in the Tundra?" he waits, although his anchor scar has all but faded with the recent events - it is only a matter of time before the truth is revealed somehow. The apple never falls far from the tree.

V A U G H A N