01-21-2019, 12:01 PM
The response of the apricot filly to his plans brings an uptick of delight to the dun colt. Wander always has excellent ideas for adventuring, and to have come up with some of his own that impress her is a feat worth taking pride in.
The tobiano colt is young still, and like many boys is not expected to grow up quite as quickly as a filly his age. He needs time to sow his wild oats, he's overheard his father saying, followed by a quip from his mother that he doesn't entirely understand.
How exactly could an 'one of those oats come looking for a handout', Pteron wonders? A puzzle he hasn't solved yet and does not worry on. There is too much to do to leave much time to think, the dun colt has found, and while he does his best to listed to Mama's lessons on diplomacy and politics, he is far more interested in learning to spar with his father and playing with Wander and Wombat.
"Of course I mean it." He replies.
His early-learned habit of winking at Wander hasn't lessened, nor has his tendency to try out lines he hears his parents use. They always make Wander react in curious ways. Pteron doesn't understand why, but he very aware that he likes the way she tends to giggle and blush or even - if he is lucky - come closer and touch him more.
That is as far as his interest in such things go at his age, because while Mama is fond of telling romance tales, Pteron is always far more interested in the daring deeds and fierce warriors. The love of adrenaline rises as the raven-haired filly spins about, and Pteron rears a half foot from the ground and stamps the cool earth excitedly when he lands. The pale colt darts forward at a trot to nip at her momentarily down-turned lip, glancing back over his shoulder as he kicks up his heels.
"Maybe we can go on our own adventure," He says to her, pausing to gesture at the dark horizon with one pale wing. "We could go anywhere, find and catch anything we want." Pteron is imagining large fields of fireflies, perhaps a few perfectly round stones to roll across the hills, or even a pretty feather for Mama's hair.
@[Wander]
sorry this is so rambly <3
The tobiano colt is young still, and like many boys is not expected to grow up quite as quickly as a filly his age. He needs time to sow his wild oats, he's overheard his father saying, followed by a quip from his mother that he doesn't entirely understand.
How exactly could an 'one of those oats come looking for a handout', Pteron wonders? A puzzle he hasn't solved yet and does not worry on. There is too much to do to leave much time to think, the dun colt has found, and while he does his best to listed to Mama's lessons on diplomacy and politics, he is far more interested in learning to spar with his father and playing with Wander and Wombat.
"Of course I mean it." He replies.
His early-learned habit of winking at Wander hasn't lessened, nor has his tendency to try out lines he hears his parents use. They always make Wander react in curious ways. Pteron doesn't understand why, but he very aware that he likes the way she tends to giggle and blush or even - if he is lucky - come closer and touch him more.
That is as far as his interest in such things go at his age, because while Mama is fond of telling romance tales, Pteron is always far more interested in the daring deeds and fierce warriors. The love of adrenaline rises as the raven-haired filly spins about, and Pteron rears a half foot from the ground and stamps the cool earth excitedly when he lands. The pale colt darts forward at a trot to nip at her momentarily down-turned lip, glancing back over his shoulder as he kicks up his heels.
"Maybe we can go on our own adventure," He says to her, pausing to gesture at the dark horizon with one pale wing. "We could go anywhere, find and catch anything we want." Pteron is imagining large fields of fireflies, perhaps a few perfectly round stones to roll across the hills, or even a pretty feather for Mama's hair.
@[Wander]
sorry this is so rambly <3