06-01-2019, 09:42 AM
There is no better distraction from grief than to fill his time with anything else. Pteron is only partially aware that he does this, but even had he known he could consider it a solid choice. There is no harm in keeping busy, and there is much for a young kingdom man to occupy himself with in this newly healthy Beqanna. Patrolling the borders, mocking with fellow warriors, visiting foreign lands and recruiting. The latter seems most appealing on this spring day, and so Pteron has left his limestone nest for a day-long venture to the Field.
The piebald pegasus makes a striking figure on the horizon with his tricolor hide and bright wings (even tucked up to his sides as they are now). This is not his intention though, and so he soon descends to the busier part of the open field, content to engage in idle conversation with strangers as they pass by. He is comfortable here, sociable and charismatic, and his mind is soon filled with the stories of others rather than his own. It is one of these stories that alerts him to the presence of the pair of overos; a palomino mare telling him that she’d come from that direction when she’d arrived in Beqanna and Pteron following her gesture to the place where the black mare has just stepped a little ahead of the teal.
Though he does his best to stay engaged in the conversation with the palomino in front of him, the young stallion’s gaze frequently drifts back to the pair through the entire course of it. The golden mare finally leaves with a roan stallion who’d given a more convincing pitch than Pteron (who was unable to promise endless summer fruit and a foal each spring that it seems she’d wanted), and leaves Pteron free to seek out the two white-marked mares.
“Hello,” he says with a polite nod of his head. Pteron’s olive green eyes flick from one to the other, polite but curious, and he adds. “I’m Pteron, from Loess.” The addition of his home is done without thought, a standard inclusion during conversation in this place. Though he has little information to work with, the pegasus is fairly sure that these two are here to find a home rather than to offer one.
@[Let]
The piebald pegasus makes a striking figure on the horizon with his tricolor hide and bright wings (even tucked up to his sides as they are now). This is not his intention though, and so he soon descends to the busier part of the open field, content to engage in idle conversation with strangers as they pass by. He is comfortable here, sociable and charismatic, and his mind is soon filled with the stories of others rather than his own. It is one of these stories that alerts him to the presence of the pair of overos; a palomino mare telling him that she’d come from that direction when she’d arrived in Beqanna and Pteron following her gesture to the place where the black mare has just stepped a little ahead of the teal.
Though he does his best to stay engaged in the conversation with the palomino in front of him, the young stallion’s gaze frequently drifts back to the pair through the entire course of it. The golden mare finally leaves with a roan stallion who’d given a more convincing pitch than Pteron (who was unable to promise endless summer fruit and a foal each spring that it seems she’d wanted), and leaves Pteron free to seek out the two white-marked mares.
“Hello,” he says with a polite nod of his head. Pteron’s olive green eyes flick from one to the other, polite but curious, and he adds. “I’m Pteron, from Loess.” The addition of his home is done without thought, a standard inclusion during conversation in this place. Though he has little information to work with, the pegasus is fairly sure that these two are here to find a home rather than to offer one.
@[Let]