04-09-2016, 05:11 PM
WEIR
It's not a proper meeting without Weir, or was it? Anyhow he was more often than not present for such occasions, can't think he would make this one an exception.
It's the smell that strikes his fancy first, lifting his attention from a quiet cluster of baby bunnies to the skies. The wind had a way of sweeping down the mountain and funneling smell through the heart of their home, like a great vacuum- or Weir thought so. Without a nicker he lives the little kits where they lay, hoping that he hadn't intruding so much so that their Mother was too far off. Surely not, he had been on his best behavior after all.
Even Darwin had remained silent, watching the small grouping with interest just as Weir, whispering back and forth with their observations. Animals of all kinds were simply fascinating and with the new year there were plenty of tiny new faces to see. It seemed the War had not taken it's toll on all things, simply the array of equine that called Beqanna home.
With a quick goodbye Weir travels in style, his favorite style- a blizzard. A funnel of wind and snowflakes that could twist and turn all sorts of ways over each hill and rock. It was easy once he had gotten the hang of it and lately it was his favorite means of transportation. Even Darwin could not protest on the delight it brought and that was saying something- he was an awfully opinionated soul.
As quick as, well, as a blizzard he finds the already gathered parties. One is a claw footed man he has never met, the other is an all too familiar gray. He chortles as he sweeps about them, finally settling into place beside Ramiel where he takes shape. A whirl of wind and he builds, snow on snow until he stands as a pleasant horse-shaped snowman. "Hallo! Welcome to the Dale." Darwin forgoes theatrics, standing with his neck stretched out, green and shelled and whole. Normally whole that is, none of this snowman nonsense.
It's the smell that strikes his fancy first, lifting his attention from a quiet cluster of baby bunnies to the skies. The wind had a way of sweeping down the mountain and funneling smell through the heart of their home, like a great vacuum- or Weir thought so. Without a nicker he lives the little kits where they lay, hoping that he hadn't intruding so much so that their Mother was too far off. Surely not, he had been on his best behavior after all.
Even Darwin had remained silent, watching the small grouping with interest just as Weir, whispering back and forth with their observations. Animals of all kinds were simply fascinating and with the new year there were plenty of tiny new faces to see. It seemed the War had not taken it's toll on all things, simply the array of equine that called Beqanna home.
With a quick goodbye Weir travels in style, his favorite style- a blizzard. A funnel of wind and snowflakes that could twist and turn all sorts of ways over each hill and rock. It was easy once he had gotten the hang of it and lately it was his favorite means of transportation. Even Darwin could not protest on the delight it brought and that was saying something- he was an awfully opinionated soul.
As quick as, well, as a blizzard he finds the already gathered parties. One is a claw footed man he has never met, the other is an all too familiar gray. He chortles as he sweeps about them, finally settling into place beside Ramiel where he takes shape. A whirl of wind and he builds, snow on snow until he stands as a pleasant horse-shaped snowman. "Hallo! Welcome to the Dale." Darwin forgoes theatrics, standing with his neck stretched out, green and shelled and whole. Normally whole that is, none of this snowman nonsense.
WINTER IS COMING