great clouds rolling over the hills
and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel
It is as if the world – or at least, the Tundra – has been holding its breath as it waits for something to happen. Brennen can feel the change in the air in the uncertainty, the way his skin crawls uncomfortably when he thinks of the unsettled business the Tundra Brothers have with their poor and mad King. Perhaps some would dismiss his thoughts as superstition and nonsense, but he has lived too long and seen too much to dismiss much of anything anymore.
So when Errant calls, he is ready. From his perch in the mountains – like many of the other Brothers he has a favorite cave in which to take temporary shelter from the elements – he flings himself into the empty air of the sky and wings his way across the Tundra to land at the gathering, flicking a serene glance over each face to take stock of who has come before settling in to listen.
He can’t help but laugh at the black stallion’s opening statement, a sound of genuine mirth that might have sounded ridiculous in this somber gathering had it come from anyone else. Somehow it simply sounds normal, coming from Brennen. Of course it was the Amazons responsible for Mountain’s absence… and of course it was Scorch, in some way or form. “Ah, the Amazons,” he responds with a last chuckle and a quick shake of his head. “Always needful of being contrary, but yet somehow still quite the useful friends to have. Still, I wish them the joy of him while he enjoys their hospitality.” The once-General has a complicated relationship with the Amazons; with the mother of his youngest son and with their current Queen, but overall he believes there is a value in the wild women of the Jungle and he would never count them out of any discussion.
Then for a moment he is quiet, the silence broken instead by the roan’s declaration of support. At the thought of waiting for Mountain to return to claim his Kingship, once more the warrior’s skin crawls and he twitches as if to shoo flies and shifts, digging one hoof into the ground. “Of course we will choose ourselves a new King. Perhaps the Amazons would like to keep our former King. And good riddance.” Brennen flicks an irritated glance around the group, more than ready to start a physical altercation with any who disagree that Mountain must go – the uneasy feeling has left him restless, and he would be more than happy to feel the impact of flesh beneath his hooves to sooth. It is in these rare moments that one can see through his usually bored, affable mannerisms to the warrior that lies underneath.
But with a deep breath he settles again, some of the heat leaving his honey-brown eyes as he exhales, resuming a bodily stillness even as his face quirks into a sardonic half-smile. “And I believe I have already made my vote and my reasons clear. At this time, I stand with Errant.”