12-23-2018, 07:16 AM
Leilan
Glaciers melting in the dead of night
and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
and the superstars sucked into the supermassive
It’s fascinating, to know how one could (partly) unintendedly, offend everyone present in one go. The grey girl seems offended when it comes to her mother (Leilan wonders how attached Rey really was to Arthas, having... ‘known’ her before, but he just shrugs a little as if perhaps she has a point). Ivar thinks his fishy comment was a petty insult, to which the roan raises his brow just a little. Sure, he didn’t like the tobiano, but he hadn’t thought anyone would take the comment so literally - well, it was meant figuratively-with-a-wink to being a kelpie, that’s all. Is he not a fish then? Still, the tone seems forgiving - for now - so perhaps he can pipe in a request then. ”I’d be more than glad, if that meant you would leave my daughters alone.” he says, more neutrally than he feels about it. ”I don’t think dragons and kelpies mix very well.” Leilan thinks to better add Oisin and Eurwen to that request, while he’s at it. Better safe than sorry.
Of course, Chryseis would try to prove him wrong, although maybe, just maybe, her teenage love for Rhae is about enough to keep her from being drowned. Or used. But who knows, really. She’s stupid like him, and angry with him for that matter. He sighs softly, wondering if this means he’s already lost her forever.
The roan girl seems cool under all this, simply asking where Leilan came from, and he turns his deep blue gaze to her, the colour changing to icy blue again when he considers her question. ”Ah, you must have been recruiting, too.” he looks to Arthas’ daughter, before returning to the chestnut roan, ”Nerine. Icicle Isle. Passed through Taiga, too, but that’s to be and stay a neutral herdland. I would think though, that to survive the coolness of the Isle, you’ll need to build much more of a winter coat. And to live with the former Amazons... well, I hope you’re as tough as you look.”
He smiles, knowingly - it’s exactly the same challenge as Arthas’ girl posed, with her mentioning of Sylva striving to grow and all that. Which, come to think of it, there is something he doesn’t know yet. ”Honestly, I did not come here to recruit - Nerine’s famous enough, I think.” He looks to the grey girl. ”I think we didn’t properly introduce eachother yet - I met Ivar before, but I can’t say I know your names by heart. So. I’m Leilan. Please tell me, daughter of One-Who-Failed-To-Recruit-Me, what’s your name? I could call you Queen of Sylva all the time, but it’s quite a mouthful and I’ve never been a fan of titles.” He could add another array of titles for himself, too - Ice Prince, Isle Claimant, Prince Consort of Nerine, something like that, but it’s tiring him to add so many words to a simple introduction. Everyone who makes a name for themselves already gets makeshift titles (he’s quite fond of Icicle, like Kagerus mentioned, so maybe that’s a keeper - after all, carrying icicles had marked about a third of the scales on his body with exaclty that - an icy layer). He doesn’t need to collect them all for himself, even if at times it might sound impressive. He used to have an impressive title - Prince of Amazons - and it meant nothing. Better not have a title and mean something, than the other way around.
There’s several titles he could add to Mary too. Daughter of my Mistress-Who-Failed-To-Recruit-Me-And-Resorted-To-Stealing-Because-He-Couldn’t-Impress-Me-Otherwise and One-I-Had-Before-Him, for example. He tilts his head, wondering if she colour-changes as well, but now content to await her answer, after which he would silently ask for the roan’s name as well. He suddenly recognizes her conformation - partly Arabian, partly something completely different. An the roan and gold... Perhaps that’s what had bothered him a while ago? Yet, he’s quite sure he would have been told if he’d sired other children.
Quite, or perhaps not quite enough.
Of course, Chryseis would try to prove him wrong, although maybe, just maybe, her teenage love for Rhae is about enough to keep her from being drowned. Or used. But who knows, really. She’s stupid like him, and angry with him for that matter. He sighs softly, wondering if this means he’s already lost her forever.
The roan girl seems cool under all this, simply asking where Leilan came from, and he turns his deep blue gaze to her, the colour changing to icy blue again when he considers her question. ”Ah, you must have been recruiting, too.” he looks to Arthas’ daughter, before returning to the chestnut roan, ”Nerine. Icicle Isle. Passed through Taiga, too, but that’s to be and stay a neutral herdland. I would think though, that to survive the coolness of the Isle, you’ll need to build much more of a winter coat. And to live with the former Amazons... well, I hope you’re as tough as you look.”
He smiles, knowingly - it’s exactly the same challenge as Arthas’ girl posed, with her mentioning of Sylva striving to grow and all that. Which, come to think of it, there is something he doesn’t know yet. ”Honestly, I did not come here to recruit - Nerine’s famous enough, I think.” He looks to the grey girl. ”I think we didn’t properly introduce eachother yet - I met Ivar before, but I can’t say I know your names by heart. So. I’m Leilan. Please tell me, daughter of One-Who-Failed-To-Recruit-Me, what’s your name? I could call you Queen of Sylva all the time, but it’s quite a mouthful and I’ve never been a fan of titles.” He could add another array of titles for himself, too - Ice Prince, Isle Claimant, Prince Consort of Nerine, something like that, but it’s tiring him to add so many words to a simple introduction. Everyone who makes a name for themselves already gets makeshift titles (he’s quite fond of Icicle, like Kagerus mentioned, so maybe that’s a keeper - after all, carrying icicles had marked about a third of the scales on his body with exaclty that - an icy layer). He doesn’t need to collect them all for himself, even if at times it might sound impressive. He used to have an impressive title - Prince of Amazons - and it meant nothing. Better not have a title and mean something, than the other way around.
There’s several titles he could add to Mary too. Daughter of my Mistress-Who-Failed-To-Recruit-Me-And-Resorted-To-Stealing-Because-He-Couldn’t-Impress-Me-Otherwise and One-I-Had-Before-Him, for example. He tilts his head, wondering if she colour-changes as well, but now content to await her answer, after which he would silently ask for the roan’s name as well. He suddenly recognizes her conformation - partly Arabian, partly something completely different. An the roan and gold... Perhaps that’s what had bothered him a while ago? Yet, he’s quite sure he would have been told if he’d sired other children.
Quite, or perhaps not quite enough.
you set my soul alight
@[naia] @[Mary] @[Ivar]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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