04-07-2015, 09:33 PM
We are at war. There will be scars.
Erebor has made it his business to be absolutely everywhere in the Chamber of Evil. Not in the way that most children are, where they are everywhere because they are frolicking and playing and enjoying themselves. No, his travels are for a far more adult purpose. He intends to learn every inch of his home, to grow into his rank as a prince in title as well as in breeding.When he catches a glimpse of the dark bay stallion on the fringes of the Chamber, he is not surprised. Maybe he'd be surprised if he knew that they were, in fact, related; however distantly it might be, somewhere in his blood there was a little bit of Texas. But he doesn't know that (and Evie wishes she didn't know that, she's had some nightmares about finishing out those lines).
The noon sun shines on Erebor's black coat as he changes his course to approach the stallion. Perhaps he should be afraid, considering that he's barely more than six months old. But he doesn't fear very much. He's inherited his parents' bravery, and it manifests itself in a downright unnatural prepossession, a way of being that is terribly older than his years. He walks without a wobble, his posture dignified and refined, his bearing almost military. He is big for his age, taller and better muscled than would be expected from a colt not even six months old. He has no vanity, but is concerned with his appearance as a reflection of the Chamber. He would never allow himself to disappoint the kingdom he loves.
He reaches the border proper and comes to a graceful stop. "Hello." he greets, his voice neutral. It is a pleasant voice, more mature sounding than it should be, decidedly different from the squealing and giggling of the typical foal. "Welcome to the Chamber." he offers politely. He's a naturally serious boy, but he's rapidly learning how to be charming when the situation calls for it.
He's still too young to be able to properly determine that the stallion reeks of the Falls. No doubt his mother, father, or any of the other relations that might be kicking around would pick up the scent immediately. But he is only sure that the stallion is a diplomat because he comes alone, and because he is waiting patiently outside the border. Beyond diplomats, who would even know where that was? If not to avoid insulting them, who would halt? "I'm guessing you come on business?" he says pleasantly, easily, a small smile on his face. "I'm Erebor." he considers adding his title, or mentioning his parents, but that can all reveal itself in time. He's not sure where they stand with the other kingdoms, and he doesn't want to tip his hand. Not until he knows a little bit more, at least.
Erebor
Native Prince of the Chamber
warship x straia