| Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Glo |
It was a dreamless slumber, dark, pleasant, peaceful; the Thief did not often dream, but when he did it was of troubling things. To be removed, saved and salvaged from those nightmares was truly a gift indeed. When he awoke it was to the watery light of daybreak pressing at his eyelids, the horizon awash with muted pinks and brilliant yellows, the vibrant colours of an early dawn melting away as morning progressed, like silk ribbons pulled across the sky. The air was warm against his sides, pleasant even in the shade of tall and pale aspens, only the slightest of breezes stirring the grass that rose around his curled limbs. He did not often rest outside of the cover of the caves, would worry about too many watchful gazes upon him as they moved in the night, fellow citizens of the Basin that might pass a judgmental eye over the golden stallion curled up in the short, arctic grass. He had only meant to watch the stars as they wheeled slowly, incessantly over him, ruminate alone in his conjecture, until fatigue had dragged his head down and he had slipped away, lost his grip on wakefulness and tumbled into an easy, untroubled slumber.
The first thing his gaze fell upon, when he finally opened his eyes, was the glint of something in the grass before his nose, some trinket catching the weak sunlight as it poured over the crests of snow topped mountains. To his knowledge there had been nothing there when he had arrived the night before, no hidden gems lingering in the secluded grove. Fatigue forgotten in favour of curiousity, the Thief tilted his head towards the sudden echo of a sound, the recognizable chirp of a fellow troublemaker. But his searching gaze caught only the briefest flash of white before it was gone, so sudden that he could not be entirely sure if he had seen it at all.
Rising to his feet, and ignoring the protest of stiff joints from having slept upon the ground, he stooped to pick up the circlet gently between his lips, pausing only for a moment to inspect the ornate craftsmanship. An array of seashells made up an elaborate ring, each one a different colour, burnished by the endeavors of waves and sand. Around them wove a thin and gleaming metal, a crimson gem shining at its center. How had such an ornate band found its way to him? What chicanery might have unfolded beneath his nose while he slept? Lifting it from the ground, he held the circlet gingerly, carefully between his teeth, and turned to follow after Imogen.
Around the curtain of evergreens and hollowed rocks lay the lake, sprawling out across the valley like a pane of glass, a pure and perfect sheet of ice that had taken a piece of the sky within itself, an imitation of the morning's awakening. A pale coral light shimmered across its surface, interlaced with the blue of a summer's sky, the golden embellishment of sunlight. Along its shore were two forms, small and almost insignificant against the regal structures of mountains beyond the water.
The Thief's gaze fell first upon Imogen, an amused glint in his eyes as he appraised the mischievous vixen. He strode towards them at an easy pace, hoping to catch their notice before they could slip any farther from him. The circlet was swiftly, and with the utmost care, deposited upon the ground at his feet, before the Thief raised his head to call out to them. "Good morning." He smiled fondly at Lena, crown tilted to shield his gaze from the brilliance of the sun. Already he could feel its heat against his back, even though the air still held the faintest of a midnight chill to it. It should have been uplifting, but for the awkward kind of uneasiness stirring in his chest, for what reason the Thief could not place. Fortunately, it was easily quieted as he shifted upon his feet, angling a look down at the ornament before his hooves and focusing upon it, rather than his nerves. The seashells were a nice touch, something that Roland could appreciate since he was so determined to be in good standing with the sea once again. It had never particularly held a grudge against him, but he had not been so keen to walk its shores as of late, fearing he would never be at ease with sand underfoot or the smell of brine in the air. Had the Mender crafted it herself? Why was he deserving of such a gift? His accomplishments had been few in number, as of late.
Belaying his confusion, he nodded towards the trinket in question and slanted a gaze towards the mare. "Would you help me put it on?" He asked, a smile colouring his words. Withholding his gratitude for the time being, he lowered his head towards her, angling his horn so she might be able to slip it over the blade. He could think of no better place to display it, worn proudly against his brow, even if he would not be able to see it himself.
@[Lena]
Push your luck if it makes you a promise
that turns con men honest.
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Image Credit
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