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.
Posted on July 28, 2020 at 08:52:41 AM by Solomon
Solomon
She is understandably surprised to find him in her path, and he watches with repressed amusement as she startles to a stop, petite hooves stamping into the froth and sending small foamy clouds upward. Even as he minds his own manners and stretches forward to exchange breaths with her she seems surprised and even a little hesitant, as though he might instead reach across to nip at her nose.
Like a small doe she seems frightened of him, and he watches quietly as she tilts her pretty face to stare at him in question before offering her name timidly. Considering the sassy bravado with which she had questioned him, her mouse like demeanor made him smile and brow quirk. Callow, she says and he inclines his head in acknowledgment of her name, fighting to keep his grin from growing too wide.
She looks to the waves, as though they hide an answer that she seeks and he watches as the breeze rearranges the pale silver of her forelock, accentuating the girlishness of her. He wants to take care of her then, to pull her close and brush away her nerves with a gentle touch, but he refrains. Like he had, she looks to the treeline as if to search for someone else, although he suspects it has more to do with her nerves than anything else.
After a moment she claims to not be a dancer and he shakes his head, clearly in disagreement, but does not interrupt her. She teases him with a playful laugh, asking to name him a warrior and he laughs along with her. With a flourish, he ducks the powerful arch of his neck into a modified bow. "At your service, Callow. As for my heroic rescue services, it depends." His lips quirk upward into a smirk. "Are you in distress?"
She dances merrily ahead of him, her steps light in the early morning light that glimmers off her skin. He follows half a length behind, higher on the beach so that he stood between her and the treeline beyond. It not only allows him to protect her from marauding interlopers, but also affords him an excuse to look upon her nubile beauty without her catching on. She is young and girlish, both in looks and manner and he cannot help but draw the comparisons between her and Quinn, who had been equally fresh-faced when she joined him in the Cove. Callow was sturdy in figure, clad in his favorite hue of gold and dressed with a pale mane and tail. It was as though the universe had decided to open up and deposit exactly what he was looking directly in front of him.
He matches her dance, stepping lightly despite his size, amber tail flagged out behind him. The thick arch of his neck pulled taut as he traveled with his head near the ground for a moment in a mirror of her posture, amused at the thought of how much it looked as though he were snaking her. Perhaps he should, he thinks. She's young enough she'd easily recover from any perceived slight in the motion, and with her innocence, he could probably just pass it off as the expected thing in the Commons.
He opts not too though. The Cove is not so desperate at the moment that it needs new members, and in truth, he does not have the time as of late to pour into soothing all of the hurt feelings of his growing herd.
After a few moments, he returns to a normal posture and skips a few steps forward to draw side by side with her. Tossing his head he laughs, glad for the small rush along the shoreline and then slows his speed, encouraging her to do the same. "If not a dancer, what about a racer?"
With a playful smirk he twists his head to face her, wondering if he could instead bait her back to the Cove, where he was certain that Ensign or Raptor would love a partner to race with.
Like a small doe she seems frightened of him, and he watches quietly as she tilts her pretty face to stare at him in question before offering her name timidly. Considering the sassy bravado with which she had questioned him, her mouse like demeanor made him smile and brow quirk. Callow, she says and he inclines his head in acknowledgment of her name, fighting to keep his grin from growing too wide.
She looks to the waves, as though they hide an answer that she seeks and he watches as the breeze rearranges the pale silver of her forelock, accentuating the girlishness of her. He wants to take care of her then, to pull her close and brush away her nerves with a gentle touch, but he refrains. Like he had, she looks to the treeline as if to search for someone else, although he suspects it has more to do with her nerves than anything else.
After a moment she claims to not be a dancer and he shakes his head, clearly in disagreement, but does not interrupt her. She teases him with a playful laugh, asking to name him a warrior and he laughs along with her. With a flourish, he ducks the powerful arch of his neck into a modified bow. "At your service, Callow. As for my heroic rescue services, it depends." His lips quirk upward into a smirk. "Are you in distress?"
She dances merrily ahead of him, her steps light in the early morning light that glimmers off her skin. He follows half a length behind, higher on the beach so that he stood between her and the treeline beyond. It not only allows him to protect her from marauding interlopers, but also affords him an excuse to look upon her nubile beauty without her catching on. She is young and girlish, both in looks and manner and he cannot help but draw the comparisons between her and Quinn, who had been equally fresh-faced when she joined him in the Cove. Callow was sturdy in figure, clad in his favorite hue of gold and dressed with a pale mane and tail. It was as though the universe had decided to open up and deposit exactly what he was looking directly in front of him.
He matches her dance, stepping lightly despite his size, amber tail flagged out behind him. The thick arch of his neck pulled taut as he traveled with his head near the ground for a moment in a mirror of her posture, amused at the thought of how much it looked as though he were snaking her. Perhaps he should, he thinks. She's young enough she'd easily recover from any perceived slight in the motion, and with her innocence, he could probably just pass it off as the expected thing in the Commons.
He opts not too though. The Cove is not so desperate at the moment that it needs new members, and in truth, he does not have the time as of late to pour into soothing all of the hurt feelings of his growing herd.
After a few moments, he returns to a normal posture and skips a few steps forward to draw side by side with her. Tossing his head he laughs, glad for the small rush along the shoreline and then slows his speed, encouraging her to do the same. "If not a dancer, what about a racer?"
With a playful smirk he twists his head to face her, wondering if he could instead bait her back to the Cove, where he was certain that Ensign or Raptor would love a partner to race with.
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