Posted on July 24, 2020 at 08:13:20 PM by Björn
 The guttural screams of their battle echoed into the dense pine forest and beyond to the craggy peaks. He had felt his enemies teeth against his hide and the feeling of his hooves against his chest. Stiffness crept in the morning after and a bruise spread itself across his shoulder, but the pride in defeating his enemy burned bright within his glacial eyes. He had proven himself a strong adversary or a competent ally. This was up the Kings and Queens of the other lands to choose. He strides across the vast tundra, his glacial eyes take in the frigid beauty that she offers. It is the snow capped mountain peaks and the enchanting dark pine forests that call to his soul - she has her fingers tightly knitted around his heart. On this cool morning he finds himself poised at the edge of the Inlet, near to the ocean. She whispers and hisses with each wave that crashes onto the rocky shore. She bubbles and froths white beneath the gray early morning sky. He quietly reflects on all that has happened over the last few months. He can not ignore the tug, the call to return to the Ridge. The Ridge was not his home. And the loss of it was the final push he needed to return for the Inlet. His glacial eyes darken as his thoughts turn to Warsaw and his family. They are not shy of their hatred toward him, which considering the circumstances from the War, he can understand. But if Warsaw thought he would never come for the Inlet, then he was only fooling himself. Kings rise and fall. It is the will of the gods. Movement draws him from his quiet muse - a lithe, familiar mare pulls herself from the ocean's grasp. His ears rotate atop his crown. He had briefly met Faolain - Queen of the Ridge - after her arrival and their short conversation. Dose she come to apologize? A smirk tugs at his lips. Or to gawk? Muscles ripple beneath his smoky hide as he strides across the short distance between them. She halts a few paces from the ocean, at-least she doesn't barrel into his home. He arches his neck and slides to a halt. A snort rips from flaring nostrils and steam billows around him as he warily eyes Faolain. He reaches his whiskered muzzle toward her in a formal, diplomatic greeting. "Velkominn to the Inlet," his voice thick on his tongue. "What brings you to the frigid north?" Bera Konung of the Inlet |
art & html & character © erin
Replies:
- dark mirror - By F A O L A I N July 24, 2020 at 10:08:47 PM
- I'm frozen to the bones, I am... - By Björn July 25, 2020 at 02:26:12 AM
- dark mirror - By F A O L A I N July 26, 2020 at 08:07:50 AM
- A soldier on my own, - By Björn August 2, 2020 at 09:55:38 PM
- dark mirror - By F A O L A I N August 11, 2020 at 04:30:05 AM
- A soldier on my own, - By Björn August 2, 2020 at 09:55:38 PM
- dark mirror - By F A O L A I N July 26, 2020 at 08:07:50 AM
- I'm frozen to the bones, I am... - By Björn July 25, 2020 at 02:26:12 AM
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