03-07-2018, 07:14 PM
(This post was last modified: 03-07-2018, 07:15 PM by Dagny and Olivier.)
True to his sister’s assumption, the gold twin relaxes as the older stallion gives them permission to stay, seemingly with no real requirements behind the agreement. He is soothed by his twin’s touch, leaning into her side as he contemplates the words of the other. Was Tephra calling to them? Certainly the warmth of the semi-active volcano had been calling to them, a lure as the best place to lay an egg. Not a problem most of them usually faced, he was sure; most horses bore live offspring. But Dagny would never be “most horses”, and thus here they are. He is happy to stay silent for now, after nodding at Warrick, and allowing his twin to carry the conversation.
Dagny has often carried the conversation, over the course of their lives. As foals in the Tundra, she had been the one who flitted from place to place, stallion to visitor, and engaged them in conversation on every topic under the sun. Olivier was the one who faithfully trained with their father every morning, waking at dawn and leaving Dagny settled into whatever comfortable nest they had spent the night in as the man and the boy ran laps and practiced fighting techniques.
She blinks at his words, turning them over in her head, and smiles at him again. Briefly, she has wondered if they should have gone to father. Ischia is, by all accounts, also a relatively warm place. But her gut had led them here, because jungles were dangerous places. Wild animals and lots of places to be stepped on and not in her imagination a great place for an egg. The side of an active volcano, on the other hand? Probably pretty isolated. But… “Does it erupt often?” she glances over her shoulder at the volcano, a slight frown marring the expression now. Not that it matters – how would she move it now?
“I think I like King,” it sounds like a sudden change of subject, but you get used to it around Dagny. “Overseer sounds so…grim.” They grew up with Kings and Queens, not this amalgamate of random other titles that New Beqanna has adopted.
Dagny has often carried the conversation, over the course of their lives. As foals in the Tundra, she had been the one who flitted from place to place, stallion to visitor, and engaged them in conversation on every topic under the sun. Olivier was the one who faithfully trained with their father every morning, waking at dawn and leaving Dagny settled into whatever comfortable nest they had spent the night in as the man and the boy ran laps and practiced fighting techniques.
She blinks at his words, turning them over in her head, and smiles at him again. Briefly, she has wondered if they should have gone to father. Ischia is, by all accounts, also a relatively warm place. But her gut had led them here, because jungles were dangerous places. Wild animals and lots of places to be stepped on and not in her imagination a great place for an egg. The side of an active volcano, on the other hand? Probably pretty isolated. But… “Does it erupt often?” she glances over her shoulder at the volcano, a slight frown marring the expression now. Not that it matters – how would she move it now?
“I think I like King,” it sounds like a sudden change of subject, but you get used to it around Dagny. “Overseer sounds so…grim.” They grew up with Kings and Queens, not this amalgamate of random other titles that New Beqanna has adopted.
Dagny & Olivier
I won't let you go; so don't let go of me
no one can ever follow; no one can ever know
Thanks <3