04-02-2018, 05:39 PM
The initial adrenaline of being a part of the Ischian mutiny has long since warn off of my gold-and-white skin. Slowly but surely men have been creeping out of the woodwork, drawn by the murmurs of change and brotherhood, nostrils flaring at the scent of revolution. I have tried to greet them, to make myself known to them. I am not yet two years of age, but perhaps the fact of my youth is why I have been so gregarious; I need to prove myself to these men as one who stands among them, not as a boy in the midst of legends.
He resembles me, though his patches are a rich red where mine are an easy yellow. Of course, as a stallion, he stands broader than me, and just a little taller; but the wings that I clutch to my ribs help to disguise the gangling nature of colts such as I, and the horn that glows faintly at the tip may persuade threads to think twice before taking advantage of my small frame. I haven't had the need for such things yet, but still, I am glad of them - and as I peer closer at this stallion, I realize that he too has a unicorn horn. Interesting.
I am walking towards him as he settles into his hips, passing by and weaving through clumps of other field-goers; the names of kingdoms pop up all around me. Nerine, Hyaline, Tephra - the powerhouses of Beqanna. My ears flick back at this thought, irritated to not hear the name of the future brotherhood kingdom out in the air - but that's why I'm here, after all. I nicker to announce my approach, and before long am settling myself before the stallion, my purple eyes looking into the embers of his own.
"Hello," I offer, disliking the way my voice bounces between the low of a man and the high of a child. "My name is Trekori; are you from Beqanna?" I ask because many are not, and get confused if I launch right into the come-start-a-revolution-with-me spiel. The wind buffets us some, and I shake my head, clearing it of some pale-gold forelock. Although I had intended not to speak again, my lips curl into a smile and I cannot help but add a last comment. "I like you're colouring by the way. Tasteful."
ooc - ((I couldn't in my right mind send Xiah to recruit because I haven't established her in real BQ yet at all but... In my head she lives in Ischia. And they should meet)).
He resembles me, though his patches are a rich red where mine are an easy yellow. Of course, as a stallion, he stands broader than me, and just a little taller; but the wings that I clutch to my ribs help to disguise the gangling nature of colts such as I, and the horn that glows faintly at the tip may persuade threads to think twice before taking advantage of my small frame. I haven't had the need for such things yet, but still, I am glad of them - and as I peer closer at this stallion, I realize that he too has a unicorn horn. Interesting.
I am walking towards him as he settles into his hips, passing by and weaving through clumps of other field-goers; the names of kingdoms pop up all around me. Nerine, Hyaline, Tephra - the powerhouses of Beqanna. My ears flick back at this thought, irritated to not hear the name of the future brotherhood kingdom out in the air - but that's why I'm here, after all. I nicker to announce my approach, and before long am settling myself before the stallion, my purple eyes looking into the embers of his own.
"Hello," I offer, disliking the way my voice bounces between the low of a man and the high of a child. "My name is Trekori; are you from Beqanna?" I ask because many are not, and get confused if I launch right into the come-start-a-revolution-with-me spiel. The wind buffets us some, and I shake my head, clearing it of some pale-gold forelock. Although I had intended not to speak again, my lips curl into a smile and I cannot help but add a last comment. "I like you're colouring by the way. Tasteful."
ooc - ((I couldn't in my right mind send Xiah to recruit because I haven't established her in real BQ yet at all but... In my head she lives in Ischia. And they should meet)).
