12-27-2015, 10:29 PM
The gray stallion has seen many things in his very long life. Little surprises him anymore, but Brynmor manages it in a simple and unexpected way. Despite his surprise, none of it shows upon his pale features. They are as stark and serene as ever, mouth unsmiling and dark eyes flinty. He has lived too long to allow such things to affect his demeanor in any great way. In truth, he is likely more surprised at his surprise than he actually is at Brynmor. It truly has been ages since anything has taken him unaware.
It is immediately obvious upon the other man’s first approach that something has changed. It is there in the confidence of his step and the tilt of his head. And while it’s true he is an easy enough man to find, considering that he is so often either still and silent or far above in the clouds, he would not have thought it would have been so for a blind man (though he is certain Brynmor would have had no difficulty communicating the fact that he wished to speak, even if he could not see him. Hurricane is aware enough of his own kingdom to know when he is needed).
He knows little of Brynmor’s past, nor has he felt the need to pry. They all have skeletons in their closets, even Hurricane. He is not so rigid as to believe that precludes a man from being a devoted brother. Of course, neither is he so lax that he would give a man keys to the kingdom until they have proven themselves. He is a hard man and has no compunction about calling another out if he feels it is warranted. But he is also a patient man. He is perfectly content to wait until the die is cast, to see on which side it might fall.
In this case, his patience has paid off, though he cannot yet know that. He sees only the difference in Brynmor as he approaches, and he knows something has changed.
”Brynmor.”
He greets the other man in his usual, rather brusque manner. His black eyes pass over the man’s graying frame in a brief, assessing study. He might have guessed that the gray stallion wished to tell him that can now see, but that seems too obvious. So instead he hands the reins to Brynmor, allowing him to lead the conversation.
”And what might that be?”
It is immediately obvious upon the other man’s first approach that something has changed. It is there in the confidence of his step and the tilt of his head. And while it’s true he is an easy enough man to find, considering that he is so often either still and silent or far above in the clouds, he would not have thought it would have been so for a blind man (though he is certain Brynmor would have had no difficulty communicating the fact that he wished to speak, even if he could not see him. Hurricane is aware enough of his own kingdom to know when he is needed).
He knows little of Brynmor’s past, nor has he felt the need to pry. They all have skeletons in their closets, even Hurricane. He is not so rigid as to believe that precludes a man from being a devoted brother. Of course, neither is he so lax that he would give a man keys to the kingdom until they have proven themselves. He is a hard man and has no compunction about calling another out if he feels it is warranted. But he is also a patient man. He is perfectly content to wait until the die is cast, to see on which side it might fall.
In this case, his patience has paid off, though he cannot yet know that. He sees only the difference in Brynmor as he approaches, and he knows something has changed.
”Brynmor.”
He greets the other man in his usual, rather brusque manner. His black eyes pass over the man’s graying frame in a brief, assessing study. He might have guessed that the gray stallion wished to tell him that can now see, but that seems too obvious. So instead he hands the reins to Brynmor, allowing him to lead the conversation.
”And what might that be?”
There is never a day that goes by
that is a good day to die.
Hurricane
