He stands in a small copse of pines, liking the way their boughs encase him in their evergreen embrace. The copse is set up high, covering the top of Scythia’s tallest hill, making it one of the kingdom’s best views. The tree’s shadows effectively hide him from the view of all but those who walked the path of Elyria. The scent of the surrounding vegetation infiltrates his nostrils and he snorts, unwilling to allow a predator or another Viriarus breach Scythia’s borders. His eyes shift at the thought of the haughty mare, her fury spilling out into the atmosphere, rousing the winds of Altus to an almost unbearable gale. Ah well, it would soon be settled, either way. Brooding gaze traces lightly across Scythia, dipping into its every contour; the activity in Scythia was low, not many members gracing their roster, but he and Sasha and the rest of the Scythians would soon change that. The fall breeze runs its fingers through his matted mane, giving up and moving on when the dreadlocks prove immovable. A flash of color catches his attention, a dappled brown shifting in and out of focus as it draws nearer. He would recognize that lanky figure anywhere. Charon.
An enigmatic expression watches as the stallion crosses into Scythia, a bounce clear in his step. His hindquarters twinge in pain, perhaps a reminder of their final battle, the vertebra still unhealed. He did not possess the powers of Galadriel, though he supposed he could have asked Tia to administer to him. Amusement crosses his features as the stallion’s figure ventures towards the site of the meeting with Viriarus. Finally, his limbs shift beneath him, drawing him from the pine’s embrace. Ignoring the pain it might cause, he shifts into a ground-eating canter, left leg striking out further than the right, pulling the painted king towards the newest visitor.
As he draws nearer, he slows, skull held high, facial features enigmatic. Finally, he slows to a halt, a few paces from Charon. Taboo allows the silence to expand between the two, amber eyes stoically regarding the thoroughbred hybrid. If he relied solely on natural instincts, he would drive the creature from his borders with a warning never to return again. But this was Hoof Prince and a measured manner of decorum must be held. Not that Taboo was one much for rules. He holds his tongue, instead moving closer to Charon, curious as to what his reaction might be. He holds his frame loose, neutral in all manners, unwilling to give away his true intentions.Hello, Charon.
KING OF SCYTHIA
Fire Lvl IV; Electricity Lvl IV; Water Lvl II
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