Kingdom Meeting I :: MANDATORY for All who plan to stay/join pls

[woolf]

bitterness is thick like blood and cold as a wind sea breeze
if you must drink of me, take of me what you please

Woolf had not bothered to intervene, although he had watched as it unfolded.

Had it escalated to further violence, had she been in true danger, he would have stepped in—he would have protected her—but it hadn’t and so he hadn’t stepped in. Instead he had watched as she had asserted herself. He had watched as she stepped forward, her chin lifted and her eyes so determined and he had felt a strange sensation in his chest, something that tightened and spread and clicked into place.

Well, damn.

So he doesn’t stay hidden, although there is parts of him that wants nothing to do with all of the messiness that is sure to come from it. Instead he finally steps forward, making his way across the sand and the dunes, his heavy hooves moving slowly, the sand beginning to stick to the heavy feathering.

His emerald eyes cut to the purple stallion, watching him coolly for a second, before they slide to Wallace. He studies her beneath his mulberry forelock, lips pressing together in thought. “I could use a home,” he finally offers, although it’s not entirely true. He’s never struggled to find a place to rest. “In exchange, I could be of service for anyone who needed to be healed from the plague.”

He’s done it before—drawn upon his own magic to drive it out of their bodies.

It wasn’t easy, but it was possible.

“If you would have me, that is,” he says, humor curving the corner of his lips, the words spoken for Wallace and Wallace alone. He didn’t see anyone else anymore. Just her.

woolf

I am loathed to say it's the devil's taste