Lady Oceane continues to surprise him but Tarian always conceals it behind a stoic expression. It's not a hard thing to do when it's the face that he has worn his entire life but some part of him is still surprised that the opalescent queen had made a vagabond from outside Beqanna the Champion of Loess.
What surprised him, even more, was that he wanted this; that as more time passed, Tarian found himself coming to enjoy the role that afforded him an identity again. It's been some time since he has been anything other than a nameless rank in an army. Another life to gamble with on the battlefield.
He nods in greeting to Fiorina because she is one of the few faces he recognizes (apart from their Queen). They haven't spoken before this but he is aware of her. There are only so many to be aware of in Loess, after all.
Tarian had been curious what her plans as the Vanguard Primary consisted of. Battling techniques and tactics were what the majority of his time consisted of in Beyond - training for the Air Guard in Liridon, as as an heir in Paraiso. His ears prick forward now, hoping that she might say something of them. What @[Oceane] asks of them both makes the silver stallion reflect before speaking. His dark mouth presses into a thin line as his mind replays the hours of patrols and journeying outside the Loessian borders.
"Quiet," is what he finally tells the Queen. It's said slowly, as if the winged stallion hasn't trusted it (and he doesn't - this perpetual night has cast shadows of doubt in many places for Tarian). There have been no travelers who have come across their borders that have sought anything more than rest. But there had been more in the beginning is what he explains to Oceane. It wasn't uncommon for him to find a wanderer seeking water or a place to hide in their canyons from the monsters.
But the steady trickle has almost died out.
That was when he had started venturing outside of Loess and this is something else that he reports to Lady Oceane and @[Fiorina]. They've gained another (temporary?) member in Ashhal, a still-healing stallion who had a particularly nasty wound. With the planes of his sterling face illuminated by the flames of the armored mare, he sighs and resettles his wings against his broad barrel, allowing the silence to settle around them once more.
What surprised him, even more, was that he wanted this; that as more time passed, Tarian found himself coming to enjoy the role that afforded him an identity again. It's been some time since he has been anything other than a nameless rank in an army. Another life to gamble with on the battlefield.
He nods in greeting to Fiorina because she is one of the few faces he recognizes (apart from their Queen). They haven't spoken before this but he is aware of her. There are only so many to be aware of in Loess, after all.
Tarian had been curious what her plans as the Vanguard Primary consisted of. Battling techniques and tactics were what the majority of his time consisted of in Beyond - training for the Air Guard in Liridon, as as an heir in Paraiso. His ears prick forward now, hoping that she might say something of them. What @[Oceane] asks of them both makes the silver stallion reflect before speaking. His dark mouth presses into a thin line as his mind replays the hours of patrols and journeying outside the Loessian borders.
"Quiet," is what he finally tells the Queen. It's said slowly, as if the winged stallion hasn't trusted it (and he doesn't - this perpetual night has cast shadows of doubt in many places for Tarian). There have been no travelers who have come across their borders that have sought anything more than rest. But there had been more in the beginning is what he explains to Oceane. It wasn't uncommon for him to find a wanderer seeking water or a place to hide in their canyons from the monsters.
But the steady trickle has almost died out.
That was when he had started venturing outside of Loess and this is something else that he reports to Lady Oceane and @[Fiorina]. They've gained another (temporary?) member in Ashhal, a still-healing stallion who had a particularly nasty wound. With the planes of his sterling face illuminated by the flames of the armored mare, he sighs and resettles his wings against his broad barrel, allowing the silence to settle around them once more.