05-21-2021, 03:50 PM
Leilan
The gold-maned roan withholds a chuckle when Ciri states she is here on business, and it completely seems to turn Chemdog off. Her tone is steady enough that the skull-marked male almost seems to droop while walking off. ”Don’t worry about him. I’m sure this is not his last visit,” he comments dryly. Not that Leilan had wanted Chemdog to leave, per say, but it seems the new leader of Silver Cove didn’t feel like cleaning up a party that he technically wasn’t hosting, as he had opted to lead the silvery territory instead of stick here with the snowy one. Leilan couldn’t blame him for the move though. Fewer and fewer mares seemed to want to stay out here in the cold, let alone a herd, or foal their children in the tundra-esque environment.
The burning of the Isle had once put them on the map, and he’d used it too, but it hadn’t attracted anyone to live in a place with barely any food. They were right, of course - hence the latest festival, which of course had multiple reasons but one of them was indeed to show the world that the Isle had survived and prevailed.
In fact, the landscape and it’s location, weren’t too inviting to some even with the thick tundra grasses and mosses restored. Even most Northerners preferred the relative warmth and shelter of the trees in Taiga. The Brotherhood as it once was, perhaps still echoed here, too, with a landscape similar to the old Tundra - even if the Ischian Krakens and Nerinian Leviathans had merged about a decade ago by now. Leilan knows better than to expect anyone to want to live in the place - anyone who is not a young male impressed by an ice dragon, at least - but when one shows up, he’s not about to be turning them away. ”Welcome, Ciri. Of course we’ll have you.” Apart from not having the luxury to turn anyone down, she seems a capable horse, made from the stuff most Northerners are crafted from - determination. ”Did you have a specific sort of employment in mind?” He knows she’d said sell-sword, but even then she could do anything from patrolling to training, or going on certain missions - seeing as Yanhua was currently patrolling the only effective borders the kingdom had.
The burning of the Isle had once put them on the map, and he’d used it too, but it hadn’t attracted anyone to live in a place with barely any food. They were right, of course - hence the latest festival, which of course had multiple reasons but one of them was indeed to show the world that the Isle had survived and prevailed.
In fact, the landscape and it’s location, weren’t too inviting to some even with the thick tundra grasses and mosses restored. Even most Northerners preferred the relative warmth and shelter of the trees in Taiga. The Brotherhood as it once was, perhaps still echoed here, too, with a landscape similar to the old Tundra - even if the Ischian Krakens and Nerinian Leviathans had merged about a decade ago by now. Leilan knows better than to expect anyone to want to live in the place - anyone who is not a young male impressed by an ice dragon, at least - but when one shows up, he’s not about to be turning them away. ”Welcome, Ciri. Of course we’ll have you.” Apart from not having the luxury to turn anyone down, she seems a capable horse, made from the stuff most Northerners are crafted from - determination. ”Did you have a specific sort of employment in mind?” He knows she’d said sell-sword, but even then she could do anything from patrolling to training, or going on certain missions - seeing as Yanhua was currently patrolling the only effective borders the kingdom had.
old, but I'm not that old
young, but I'm not that bold
young, but I'm not that bold
@[Ciri]
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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