03-01-2017, 09:33 PM
hold me in this wild, wild world
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
'cause in your warmth I forget how cold it can be
He likes winter.
Though it makes life harder on many, what with the cold and the reduced foliage and the treacherous footing, it reminds Brennen of the Tundra, and so he is pleased with the season nonetheless. Of course, with the ice once more at his command, he can make a temporary Tundra anywhere he’d like, but it just isn’t the same when his creations melt away in the balmy air of Nerine. Holding them would take too much effort, too much of the magic, and he would rather save it for later need.
Today he is flying high above the ground, following the faint scent of ice and snow and winter in the air. It has yet to grip any part of Beqanna with any firm grasp, but anyone with sense knows it is coming. The last of the leaves have drifted to the ground and autumn is fleeing quickly.
The pegasus has no real business in the Meadow, but he has no real business anywhere, of late. He lingers in Nerine for reasons that are beyond even his own comprehension; there is no Brotherhood anymore, so he makes do with living amongst the proud women who were once the Amazons, breathing the salty air, and wondering what he is without his Tundra, without a King to serve. Can he be happy, serving a Queen instead? Drifting downwards, the warrior stallion lands as gracefully any anything not naturally meant to bear wings can, with the practice of someone who has worn his wings since before the birth of many who roam Beqanna today.
As he folds his overlarge black wings, the bay lowers his nose to the ground, helpless but to trail a line of ice behind as he swings his head. Perhaps he will not waste his talents holding a land in ice during the warm months, but he can’t help the urge to prove he can use his magics, every now and again. It is when he looks up again that he locks eyes on the pretty mare with the full set of antlers, and he blinks a moment before smiling, intrigued. He has seen many things, but he has also learned to take moments of impulse and run with them. So he steps forward to where she stands by the stream, a half-smile quirked on his face.
“Hello. I’m Brennen.”
Though it makes life harder on many, what with the cold and the reduced foliage and the treacherous footing, it reminds Brennen of the Tundra, and so he is pleased with the season nonetheless. Of course, with the ice once more at his command, he can make a temporary Tundra anywhere he’d like, but it just isn’t the same when his creations melt away in the balmy air of Nerine. Holding them would take too much effort, too much of the magic, and he would rather save it for later need.
Today he is flying high above the ground, following the faint scent of ice and snow and winter in the air. It has yet to grip any part of Beqanna with any firm grasp, but anyone with sense knows it is coming. The last of the leaves have drifted to the ground and autumn is fleeing quickly.
The pegasus has no real business in the Meadow, but he has no real business anywhere, of late. He lingers in Nerine for reasons that are beyond even his own comprehension; there is no Brotherhood anymore, so he makes do with living amongst the proud women who were once the Amazons, breathing the salty air, and wondering what he is without his Tundra, without a King to serve. Can he be happy, serving a Queen instead? Drifting downwards, the warrior stallion lands as gracefully any anything not naturally meant to bear wings can, with the practice of someone who has worn his wings since before the birth of many who roam Beqanna today.
As he folds his overlarge black wings, the bay lowers his nose to the ground, helpless but to trail a line of ice behind as he swings his head. Perhaps he will not waste his talents holding a land in ice during the warm months, but he can’t help the urge to prove he can use his magics, every now and again. It is when he looks up again that he locks eyes on the pretty mare with the full set of antlers, and he blinks a moment before smiling, intrigued. He has seen many things, but he has also learned to take moments of impulse and run with them. So he steps forward to where she stands by the stream, a half-smile quirked on his face.
“Hello. I’m Brennen.”
hold me in this wild, wild world
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
and in your heat I feel how cold it can get
BRENNEN