The Lost Islands
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Common

Force-claiming is allowed here once a week per character, as is blocking force-claims by the Peak/Lagoon (as a whole) once a week. Rollover is on Sundays.

seems like you could use a little company from me


KENDRY
stallion . draft mutt . eight . perlino . 18hh . son of marlena


He chuckles, relieved, as she stands a bit straighter and jokes with him. She can’t be faring too poorly if she’s able to tease. Kendry waits until she aligns herself with him and steps out with her, ambling at the pace she sets as they venture toward the oak. “Fair. I’ll hold you to that run another day, though,” he says as they walk, his voice underscored by the crunch of their hooves through the icy crust atop soft snow. It reminds him of his walk with Banks, though this mare walks closely enough beside him that their shoulders and hips bump companionably together every odd step, and it’s not snowing on this day. The air is brisk but not uncomfortable, though he is warm still from his earlier plunge through the Meadow.

Her introduction makes him nod thoughtfully. He glances back as she does, as if he believes he might see something noteworthy following their tracks, and thus is caught a little off-guard when she hurries ahead. Hurry is perhaps too generous a word, but Kendry can see she is determined to make it to the tree and hangs back a bit, purposefully lagging as she has requested. Everyone carries a past, himself included, and he does not associate her mild increase in pace with panic over what she’s left but rather determination to “win” their walk to the tree.

Kendry is a gracious loser. He joins her by the old, knobby trunk wearing an easy grin. “The victor— this time,” he announces with a wink and a low bow of his pale head. He lifts it with a casual toss and looks out over the field, the snow bright despite the lack of a significant moon and glittering like it’s stolen all the stars. He snorts low, amused, and turns to look at Elara. His blue eyes are bright with mirth as he introduces himself: “I’m Kendry. Always have been, always will be. As you can see,” he continues, gesturing with his pink nose at the path they have just walked, “We have just walked from one section of the Commons to another. And that,” he nods at the field of deep snows beyond the oak which shelters them, “is the Meadow. So.” Kendry’s grin grows as he meets her eyes again. “Think you can now say you have a reasonably solid idea of where you’re at?”



html and image © riley for Uforia


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