08-02-2019, 10:14 PM
Taking his attention from the search for the cherry trees, the dun stallion turns his gaze back to Sabrina. He is not surprised to hear that Mary was her mother, and he had already expected that she was a relation of Sinner. His olive eyes trace her face for a long moment, but there is too much hound in her expresion for him to recognize anything of her mother in this shape. He’s seen the dappled woman only twice, but she had been a striking creature Pteron is curious how much her daughter might resemble her, but he is cognizant that asking Sabrina to change shape so he could get a better look at her might not end well for him.
Instead, he turns back to the forest, his pale nostrils flaring as he searches for the tree and his ears flicking back as his companion explains her own housing situation. He’s been to Icicle Isle. It had been a beautiful place, and he can imagine Sabrina there perfectly. Her thick coat and canine form would be ideal for the frozen winters and cold summers. That she has plan to make it her own are interesting, and Pteron tries for a moment to remember if he knows the current leader of the northern island. He should, he thinks to himself, but all he can remember is something that starts with a J.
This news is something that he suspects might be politically advantageous, but Pteron is not especially interested in using it. He is content with his life as a dis-invested pawn on the chessboard of Beqanna. There’s no time to consider it anyway, because Sabrina’s shout that she has caught the scent of the cherries breaks his train of thought.
“Yes!” He exclaims, stepping past where she has slid to a halt to draw near to the cherry tree. He remembers the shape of the small tree and the leaves now, and he seeks out the red tint of the cherries in the branches. A frown grows on his face as he realizes that this early in the summer most of the cherries are still green and unripe.
“I must have been here later in the summer when I found them last year.” The pegasus says, disappointment clear in his voice. Still, there are some ripe fruits near the top of the tree, and Pteron rears up, batting at the greenery with his wings until the ripest fruits tumble down. “There’s enough for a snack,” he says to Sabrina, glancing over his shoulder at the hellhound while he folds his wings to his sides. “Come and try them. If you don’t like them” - he grins easily - “More for me!”
@[Sabrina]
Instead, he turns back to the forest, his pale nostrils flaring as he searches for the tree and his ears flicking back as his companion explains her own housing situation. He’s been to Icicle Isle. It had been a beautiful place, and he can imagine Sabrina there perfectly. Her thick coat and canine form would be ideal for the frozen winters and cold summers. That she has plan to make it her own are interesting, and Pteron tries for a moment to remember if he knows the current leader of the northern island. He should, he thinks to himself, but all he can remember is something that starts with a J.
This news is something that he suspects might be politically advantageous, but Pteron is not especially interested in using it. He is content with his life as a dis-invested pawn on the chessboard of Beqanna. There’s no time to consider it anyway, because Sabrina’s shout that she has caught the scent of the cherries breaks his train of thought.
“Yes!” He exclaims, stepping past where she has slid to a halt to draw near to the cherry tree. He remembers the shape of the small tree and the leaves now, and he seeks out the red tint of the cherries in the branches. A frown grows on his face as he realizes that this early in the summer most of the cherries are still green and unripe.
“I must have been here later in the summer when I found them last year.” The pegasus says, disappointment clear in his voice. Still, there are some ripe fruits near the top of the tree, and Pteron rears up, batting at the greenery with his wings until the ripest fruits tumble down. “There’s enough for a snack,” he says to Sabrina, glancing over his shoulder at the hellhound while he folds his wings to his sides. “Come and try them. If you don’t like them” - he grins easily - “More for me!”
@[Sabrina]