05-27-2016, 05:43 PM
PHAEDRUS
Phaedrus is war through and through, each step a purpose, full of muscle and a ever starving need to move forward. That is what he is doing when the newly found queen aproaches him. He had not let out a sound from his throat, he had simply began to lumber through the trees seeking out the stallions. Assuming that she was nearby and had come by him in passing he nods to her in greeting. Everything about him ebbing of formality, this was one thing that never seemed to change about him, even when he relaxed.
Nice to meet you as well Ea. A genuinely gentle smile crosses his lips. Then she continues. Before this he realizes that he had never made an attempt to seek her out and introduce himself to her. But then he didn't bother with such things for the most part. His duties always taking precidence. I hardly ever seek out or call on anyone in the kingdom, I apologize if it came across as rude. but its not until he takes a second to muse over what was happening that it hits him as to what her question was. Others? Is there a kingdom meeting? This one has him puzzling and completely turned around with confusion. What all had he missed in his absense. He shakes his head loosing himself in thought, chastising himself for not having the copasity to be everywhere and help out more.
Why he would be irked by her presence (if he could ever be honest with himself) was that in all honesty the search for the king and Phaedrus' best friend Weir was to avoid mares, and hope to catch up with his friends, as he had not seen, nor crossed paths with them in over two years.
In last two years he had been busy enough even the thought of relaxing had not been one to cross his mind. In desire to give himself an excuse as to why he was seeking out his friends he had decided to ask them some questions. At least in that way he would still be productive and getting a few leasurely moments in their company. The lack of male presence in his life was beginning to wear thin, so many females, the males seemed more scarse then finding a tiger in the desert.
Still he does not begrudge her. Yet he couldn't say that he looked up to her, trusted her, or respected her as of yet. As a warrior he wasn't fully accepting of anyone until they proved themselves worthy of what they claimed. Ramiel had earned his respect and trust when the king had charged into battle along side his brethern. Weir had earned his respect and trust when he had coordinated his attacks with Phaedrus and Ramiel. Besra had won his respect and trust when she took initiative and pulled the band of mares together. Roma had also earned his respect when she chose to trust him with her safety, even after he fully admitted to having no proof that he would be a good leader for her. The only one he looked up to though was Ramiel, the man had proved to be a great and wise leader. Something that he hoped one day to be able to be able to call himself. He knew that he was not wise, or great. Not yet, but everyday he watched, and learned, hoping that he too would be worthy of the respect and trust others put in him.
Lost in his thoughts, Phaedrus remains standing there. His eyes unfocused, and dark with the weight of what he was thinking on. Finally he shakes out his mane and comes back to the present. Absently he mulls over something in his head, the words slipping out of his mouth in low mutters. I wonder where we stand with the Tundra? Or the Deserts for that matter?
Nice to meet you as well Ea. A genuinely gentle smile crosses his lips. Then she continues. Before this he realizes that he had never made an attempt to seek her out and introduce himself to her. But then he didn't bother with such things for the most part. His duties always taking precidence. I hardly ever seek out or call on anyone in the kingdom, I apologize if it came across as rude. but its not until he takes a second to muse over what was happening that it hits him as to what her question was. Others? Is there a kingdom meeting? This one has him puzzling and completely turned around with confusion. What all had he missed in his absense. He shakes his head loosing himself in thought, chastising himself for not having the copasity to be everywhere and help out more.
Why he would be irked by her presence (if he could ever be honest with himself) was that in all honesty the search for the king and Phaedrus' best friend Weir was to avoid mares, and hope to catch up with his friends, as he had not seen, nor crossed paths with them in over two years.
In last two years he had been busy enough even the thought of relaxing had not been one to cross his mind. In desire to give himself an excuse as to why he was seeking out his friends he had decided to ask them some questions. At least in that way he would still be productive and getting a few leasurely moments in their company. The lack of male presence in his life was beginning to wear thin, so many females, the males seemed more scarse then finding a tiger in the desert.
Still he does not begrudge her. Yet he couldn't say that he looked up to her, trusted her, or respected her as of yet. As a warrior he wasn't fully accepting of anyone until they proved themselves worthy of what they claimed. Ramiel had earned his respect and trust when the king had charged into battle along side his brethern. Weir had earned his respect and trust when he had coordinated his attacks with Phaedrus and Ramiel. Besra had won his respect and trust when she took initiative and pulled the band of mares together. Roma had also earned his respect when she chose to trust him with her safety, even after he fully admitted to having no proof that he would be a good leader for her. The only one he looked up to though was Ramiel, the man had proved to be a great and wise leader. Something that he hoped one day to be able to be able to call himself. He knew that he was not wise, or great. Not yet, but everyday he watched, and learned, hoping that he too would be worthy of the respect and trust others put in him.
Lost in his thoughts, Phaedrus remains standing there. His eyes unfocused, and dark with the weight of what he was thinking on. Finally he shakes out his mane and comes back to the present. Absently he mulls over something in his head, the words slipping out of his mouth in low mutters. I wonder where we stand with the Tundra? Or the Deserts for that matter?
i'll carry this flag, to the grave if i must