07-07-2015, 10:13 AM
He shouldn’t have come, but he could not resist. Granted, he has a valid reason for being here. He had agreed to participate in their competition. Ostensibly, if asked, that is why he is here. They do not need to know he has an ulterior motive for coming here. To find her. Pevensie.
She had been plaguing his thoughts far too much of late. He, the embodiment of cool logic and purveyor of brutal honesty, had been consumed by a mare who smelled of sunshine. It is unfathomable. Even as he had flown south, passing over the Tundra’s massive wall of ice, he had told himself to return home. To wait until the appointed time of the competition. Searching her out is simply not logical. But still he had flown. He had flown until the rolling dunes of the Deserts lay before him.
This is where he stands now, on the borderlands of the kingdom, dark eyes surveying the landscape. He had considering simply flying in, but he is not yet that much of a cretin. Instead he wavers there, telling himself to return, go home. Yet he does not go home. He steps forward, feet carrying him on an inevitable journey.
He has only been traveling for a short time when he hears a scream. His pale head jerks up, ears snapping to attention as his forward motion falters. This is not his kingdom, but his protective instincts kick in anyway. He turns, heading swiftly in the direction the sound had originated. When the scream comes again, his wings unfurl as he leaps into the sky.
It does not take him long to find her. Though her golden coat nearly blends into the sand, he still sees her. He would always see her. Worry tightens his throat as he drops swiftly to the ground beside her. The scent of birth hits him just before he sees the small golden form wriggling beside her mother. The knot in his throat loosens as awe takes its place.
Pevensie.
Her name escapes his lips, just as sweet on his tongue as it had been before. His dark eyes sweep her form, ensuring her wellness for himself. Even covered in sweat and sand, she is beautiful. Dropping his head, he brushes his muzzle against her neck, her shoulder, before moving to the newborn filly. His pale wings flare wide, offering them what protection he can from the harsh desert sun. A small, almost smile hovers upon his lips as he inspects their child. Turning his eyes back to Pevensie, he gazes upon her with a hint of amusement.
This is not how I expected this meeting to go.
She had been plaguing his thoughts far too much of late. He, the embodiment of cool logic and purveyor of brutal honesty, had been consumed by a mare who smelled of sunshine. It is unfathomable. Even as he had flown south, passing over the Tundra’s massive wall of ice, he had told himself to return home. To wait until the appointed time of the competition. Searching her out is simply not logical. But still he had flown. He had flown until the rolling dunes of the Deserts lay before him.
This is where he stands now, on the borderlands of the kingdom, dark eyes surveying the landscape. He had considering simply flying in, but he is not yet that much of a cretin. Instead he wavers there, telling himself to return, go home. Yet he does not go home. He steps forward, feet carrying him on an inevitable journey.
He has only been traveling for a short time when he hears a scream. His pale head jerks up, ears snapping to attention as his forward motion falters. This is not his kingdom, but his protective instincts kick in anyway. He turns, heading swiftly in the direction the sound had originated. When the scream comes again, his wings unfurl as he leaps into the sky.
It does not take him long to find her. Though her golden coat nearly blends into the sand, he still sees her. He would always see her. Worry tightens his throat as he drops swiftly to the ground beside her. The scent of birth hits him just before he sees the small golden form wriggling beside her mother. The knot in his throat loosens as awe takes its place.
Pevensie.
Her name escapes his lips, just as sweet on his tongue as it had been before. His dark eyes sweep her form, ensuring her wellness for himself. Even covered in sweat and sand, she is beautiful. Dropping his head, he brushes his muzzle against her neck, her shoulder, before moving to the newborn filly. His pale wings flare wide, offering them what protection he can from the harsh desert sun. A small, almost smile hovers upon his lips as he inspects their child. Turning his eyes back to Pevensie, he gazes upon her with a hint of amusement.
This is not how I expected this meeting to go.
There is never a day that goes by
that is a good day to die.
Hurricane
OOC: Sooooo, I couldn't resist. Hope you don't mind him butting in here.