07-07-2017, 03:42 PM
My heart saw the things my eyes couldn't see
The moment she accedes to his wishes, he is nearly bounding off. A wide, delighted grin upon his red lips, he follows her with alacrity. When he notices her hesitant steps however, he slows to fall in step beside her, keeping his pace steady to match hers.
Fortunately he is a nimble young stallion, practiced in the ways of treacherous ground and adventure. As a product of Tephra, it would be nearly impossible not to be. One misstep and you might stick your hoof right in a puddle of lava. Of course, being the overly brave and adventurous young colt he had been (and still is, despite his added years), he may have burned himself a time or too. May even still have the scars along coronet and fetlock to prove it. Still, he had gotten wiser as he aged, and much more nimble. These mountains present no problem for him, and so he keeps up to her with ease, either alongside or falling behind when the paths narrow too much for two horses abreast.
Naturally, Fox is not quiet for this trip. Did you expect it of him? He really doesn’t need nor even anticipate much of a response to his words, from the excited “Alright then, let’s go!” at the beginning of their quest to the various offhand comments he makes along the way. Comments on the loveliness of the landscape, to an excited exclamation at the sighting of a mountain sheep some ways in the distance. “Oh! That sheep! Ovis canadensis. My dad taught me that one,” he says with a wide grin.
He carefully avoids commenting on her seemingly injured state, understanding it was something she would need time to share with him. Despite his often frivolous tendencies, he does have a rather more sensitive side. When finally they are nearing the top of the mountain, when she is leading him towards a sturdy looking ledge, he releases an excited breath before bounding far too near to the edge for comfort. Once there, the wide, excited grin slips a bit, a hint of concern entering his amber gaze. “Oh my,” he says a bit hesitantly. “That doesn’t look good.”
After a moment’s silence, his gaze slides sideways, landing upon Iset’s frozen expression. A rather large part of him suspects that she had some involvement in whatever had destroyed part of the mountain kingdom, given her reaction and rather painful stride. The guilt fairly radiates from her.
Abruptly, animatedly, he steps forward, the tips of his hooves pressing their luck at the edges of the cliff as a glint enters his amber gaze. “Hmm, let’s see here. We can fix this.” As the last is spoken, a storm begins to gather about him.
It’s so easy to forget, given his easy nature and good humor, just how powerful Fox truly is. But with little thought and even less fanfare, he demonstrates just how much lingers beneath the unassuming surface. A storm of ice and snow is building, blurring and chilling the air around them, before cascading down the mountain to coat the ruined landscape below. Swirls of glittering white and glistening crystal undulate and expand, rumbling and building, twisting into fantastic shapes. When finally he is done, when the ice and snow dust have cleared, a large magnificent tree stands in the midst of the destruction. It’s icy limbs and glittering leaves tinkle faintly in the breeze, a beautiful, gleaming shrine in the midst of a blanket of white that hides every trace of destruction.
Finally, Fox steps back, a faint trace of sweat darkening his neck from the incredible amount of energy it must have taken to create such a thing. “There,” he states, a small, satisfied smile upon his lips as he admires his handiwork.
Fortunately he is a nimble young stallion, practiced in the ways of treacherous ground and adventure. As a product of Tephra, it would be nearly impossible not to be. One misstep and you might stick your hoof right in a puddle of lava. Of course, being the overly brave and adventurous young colt he had been (and still is, despite his added years), he may have burned himself a time or too. May even still have the scars along coronet and fetlock to prove it. Still, he had gotten wiser as he aged, and much more nimble. These mountains present no problem for him, and so he keeps up to her with ease, either alongside or falling behind when the paths narrow too much for two horses abreast.
Naturally, Fox is not quiet for this trip. Did you expect it of him? He really doesn’t need nor even anticipate much of a response to his words, from the excited “Alright then, let’s go!” at the beginning of their quest to the various offhand comments he makes along the way. Comments on the loveliness of the landscape, to an excited exclamation at the sighting of a mountain sheep some ways in the distance. “Oh! That sheep! Ovis canadensis. My dad taught me that one,” he says with a wide grin.
He carefully avoids commenting on her seemingly injured state, understanding it was something she would need time to share with him. Despite his often frivolous tendencies, he does have a rather more sensitive side. When finally they are nearing the top of the mountain, when she is leading him towards a sturdy looking ledge, he releases an excited breath before bounding far too near to the edge for comfort. Once there, the wide, excited grin slips a bit, a hint of concern entering his amber gaze. “Oh my,” he says a bit hesitantly. “That doesn’t look good.”
After a moment’s silence, his gaze slides sideways, landing upon Iset’s frozen expression. A rather large part of him suspects that she had some involvement in whatever had destroyed part of the mountain kingdom, given her reaction and rather painful stride. The guilt fairly radiates from her.
Abruptly, animatedly, he steps forward, the tips of his hooves pressing their luck at the edges of the cliff as a glint enters his amber gaze. “Hmm, let’s see here. We can fix this.” As the last is spoken, a storm begins to gather about him.
It’s so easy to forget, given his easy nature and good humor, just how powerful Fox truly is. But with little thought and even less fanfare, he demonstrates just how much lingers beneath the unassuming surface. A storm of ice and snow is building, blurring and chilling the air around them, before cascading down the mountain to coat the ruined landscape below. Swirls of glittering white and glistening crystal undulate and expand, rumbling and building, twisting into fantastic shapes. When finally he is done, when the ice and snow dust have cleared, a large magnificent tree stands in the midst of the destruction. It’s icy limbs and glittering leaves tinkle faintly in the breeze, a beautiful, gleaming shrine in the midst of a blanket of white that hides every trace of destruction.
Finally, Fox steps back, a faint trace of sweat darkening his neck from the incredible amount of energy it must have taken to create such a thing. “There,” he states, a small, satisfied smile upon his lips as he admires his handiwork.
Fox
