Kheldar’s Prince of Thieves
The giant black beast that was Fell appears with no small bit of shifted weight on Rosto’s part. Sure he was tall enough to look Fell comfortably in the eye, but the other stallion had the thickness of heartier breeds mixed in as well as the backing of some pretty damn hearty violence to keep him on the rims of his hooves. The stump of one ear was enough to tell Rosto that he was at the butt end of some serious fights, the look in his eyes telling Rosto that his choice to remain in the surf and not make true landfall was the best idea he had had in a while.
The other rumor confirmed for him was the stallion’s perpetual silence. The rattling breath was good enough, though Rosto worried about more complex conversation pieces. The narrowing of the other’s eyes makes him lower his head vaguely, not submissive but matching the relaxation that Fell follows the distrusting gaze with. "I can see that my home scent is not particularly to your taste," he says with good-natured humor, and even a bit of apology on his expression, "I am Rosto and I swear not to step foot on dry shore during this visit." He could not promise to never, but he could promise for now.
"I came from the Lagoon on a more… diplomatic mission than your history with us might suggest. I had heard of your and your subordinates success in siring sons that might be in need of a place or purpose of their own-- or perhaps even training for heirs that could be given training for a term and released back to their homelands after having hardened their metal and sharpened their edges amongst brothers of the same fighting spirit."
OF THE LOST ISLANDS LAGOON
▻ stallion - iberian mutt - sooty bay tobiano rabicano sabino - 16.1 hh ◅