great clouds rolling over the hills
and if you close your eyes, does it almost feel
The Tundra is rarely what one would consider “full of life”. It’s quiet here, it’s almost always quiet, the sheer number of brothers is not overwhelmingly large to begin with. But the reflective snow and ice means that any sound carries, and they are a watchful bunch. Brennen, in particular, watches. From the cliffs, from the sky; and he doesn’t miss the little chestnut girl who wanders across their borders. Of course it’s not an accidental wander – it would be hard to accidentally find the single opening in their towering ice wall. But there is a difference between visitors and Brothers, and this girl’s gender is a big one.
But he isn’t the first to approach. Even as he takes to the air, to spiral downwards from the cliffs to the ground level, a flash of bright colored motion tells him that some of the children have reached their visitor first. Still, he slowly wings about, landing a ways from them and folding his wings tight against his body before meandering their way. It’s a little thing – he is not huge, at only 15.2, and the twins are still standing below his height (though he notes with a glance that leggy Olivier is rapidly sprouting up to meet him, Dagny not far behind), but they seem to dwarf the stranger.
Cognizant of this, Brennen doesn’t get too close. Even though he’s not overly tall, he does cut an imposing figure on occasion with his huge, trailing inky black wings and deadly grace. Better, for the moment, to let his children take most of the lead here. Dagny, with her bright personality and splashes of strange color, is one of the least intimidating creatures he knows. But he smiles, something drawing him to the girl, and offers his own name. If she’s here on some sort of Kingdom visit, it’ll be him she’d rather talk to than the twins anyway. “Welcome to the Tundra. I’m Brennen.”