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.

intuition as prophecy;



Micah


none

▻ none (x none) ◅


He does look quite like his father, it was not his looks that had kept him from the Commons till now. It had been the traveling. His father had, indeed, taught him the importance of stationary living when one was sowing oats and collecting hearts. While he was not in the same broadly loving mindset as his father - he was very much respectful of the empire his father now controlled and family he’d established. Insulation from enemies was the greatest need - and while he had only been passingly welcome in the Prairie, he had at least traveled as long and far as he needed to know that there were few herdlands in which he would thrive. Luthien and Tinuvel were it for him and he was certain he could not thrive under his father’s roof with all lands claimed by family or the loves thereof. Zevulun had seemed a decent bloke, though, and of course there was the new rulers of the other locations to investigate.

So with his island of choice picked - it was time to see if there might be some trick of fate to capture his heart.

Funny and ironic, how fate turns, though - that the one to spot Honey is Micah. He spots her as she lays herself into the shade of a small copse, grooming and then dozing off into full restful sleep.

He is not the sort to disrupt a lady when she rested, but he is easily diverted by her clear beauty and he wonders if his father’s eye for gold might not have been hereditary. She is certainly no brilliant shade as seen in the emperor’s harem, but somehow the richer color and fascinating dapples are too much to resist. He guards her, protective as though she were his own and yet having no claim to settle that account. Anyone that would usurp her freedom would first have to get through him.

When she stirs, the stallion looks down and to the side out of the corner of his eye. "Are you rested? I have time if you wish to recuperate further." His voice is rich and even, his eyes averting to give her privacy that his protective proximity did not quite provide well. Just another self-fulfilling prophecy - his home being Luthien and his heart being the princess of the very same.


OF THE LUTHIEN PRAIRIE

▻ five years - andalusian mutt - grullo tobiano splash - 16.0 hh ◅



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