07-30-2019, 09:57 PM
The dun stallion has seen a hellhound only once before, and then only briefly. Still, the meeting had made quite an impression on Pteron. At the time he had been barely more than a weanling, following alongside his parents as they ventured to one of their territories. The Sylvan leaders had come to greet the King and Queen of the South, but Pteron barely had eyes for the normal-looking Mary. Instead, his attention had been focused on the impossible creature beside her, one that spoke like a civilized creature despite looking like a nightcrawler. Sinner, he remembers the name, fitting for the hellhound. The similarity in name strikes him just as Sabrina confirms that she is a hellhound.
“I met Sinner, once. I was a boy and my parents brought me to Sylva and I met Mary and him.” Had Sabrina been in her horse form, the tobiano pegasus might have noticed a resemblance to Mary. With that he might even have pieced together that Sabrina was the right age to be the foal that Mary had been heavily pregnant with at their first meeting. But she is a red hound instead, and he does not wonder this at all.
Instead, he listens as she confirms that her sense of smell is better is this form than her other, nodding as he does. “It’s a fruit,” he tells her, “Small ones, red.” Those last descriptions probably aren’t the best, but he’s not sure how to describe the taste of them other than, well, cherry-flavored.
Sabrina asks where he is from as they make their way through the woods. Pteron keeps his place just behind her shoulder, looking through the trees. “I live in Taiga,” he tells her. “But I was from Loess, and before that the Brilliant Pampas.” He feels no need to hide his story or add unnecessary detail. “What about you? Do you live in Sylva, like Sinner does...did.” He trails off somewhat awkwardly, remembering as he speaks that the former leader has been banished from the land for treason.
Is Sabrina the relative of a traitor, he wonders? Is there, at her core, betrayal?
“What about you? Where do you live?” Pteron asks, choosing to focus on her anser and the missing cherry tree rather than tread further down that uncomfortable line of internal questioning.
@[Sabrina]
“I met Sinner, once. I was a boy and my parents brought me to Sylva and I met Mary and him.” Had Sabrina been in her horse form, the tobiano pegasus might have noticed a resemblance to Mary. With that he might even have pieced together that Sabrina was the right age to be the foal that Mary had been heavily pregnant with at their first meeting. But she is a red hound instead, and he does not wonder this at all.
Instead, he listens as she confirms that her sense of smell is better is this form than her other, nodding as he does. “It’s a fruit,” he tells her, “Small ones, red.” Those last descriptions probably aren’t the best, but he’s not sure how to describe the taste of them other than, well, cherry-flavored.
Sabrina asks where he is from as they make their way through the woods. Pteron keeps his place just behind her shoulder, looking through the trees. “I live in Taiga,” he tells her. “But I was from Loess, and before that the Brilliant Pampas.” He feels no need to hide his story or add unnecessary detail. “What about you? Do you live in Sylva, like Sinner does...did.” He trails off somewhat awkwardly, remembering as he speaks that the former leader has been banished from the land for treason.
Is Sabrina the relative of a traitor, he wonders? Is there, at her core, betrayal?
“What about you? Where do you live?” Pteron asks, choosing to focus on her anser and the missing cherry tree rather than tread further down that uncomfortable line of internal questioning.
@[Sabrina]