World at Large

[PRIVATE] World at Large

Rohan Posts: 132

Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8.5 | dam: 7.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.0 :: 8 years HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE

Éomer :: White-tailed Eagle :: Scream Reli

06-16-2015, 11:45 PM

     Rohan
    Her laughter is silky as it chimes into the wintry air, reminding him of icicles that dangle from evergreen’s branches, pealing as they are blown by the wind. His gently skewed smirk lingers, but his deep tones do not mimic hers until he hears words leave her lips, his chuckle much broader than her own soprano tones. He is a man who laughs easily. Perhaps it is not always in a light and airy manner (he has been known to jeer more than once), but it is more than he can say for the stiff-necked hypocrites that dare not disturb their aura.

    He tries not to dwell on how his father comes to mind.

    Instead, he concentrates on much more delightful, much more appealing things. Bright eyes refocus on the gilded mare that stands before him, allowing his mind—as he too often does—to be happily distracted by a pretty face and sultry words. Hopefully she is kind enough to oblige.

    Fluted ears tilt forward to catch her name; Rexanna. He mulls it over in his mind for a moment, feeling the sound of it out. He’s certainly no name expert, but he has been around the field enough times to get a general ~~idea~~ guess. Hers doesn’t particularly strike him as a…let’s say, a goody-good type of name, like Amy or Mary. It doesn’t necessarily scream seductress either, but the Warlander detects promise—if a character is shaped by a name, that is. Only the Gods know exactly what he has gotten for himself today.

    “Your tall, dark, and handsome, sweetheart,” he ignores her ‘all jokes aside’ and slides it in smoothly, because the flare just sounds better. The stallion’s crooked smirk deepens, his weight shifting—because the blasted cold will seep through his thick coat before he knows it—before he continues with a mighty arch of his neck. “But you can call me Rohan,” his deep chuckle resounds again in his broad chest, clearly amused by his own antics. If only everyone was so easily charmed.

    Rexanna’s wandering gaze does not go unnoticed, and he seems to puff beneath it. A man does love to be wanted, after all. “Tell me about yourself, Rexanna,” he muses, and although his demeanor suggests otherwise, he is genuinely curious; despite his flirtatious and brute characteristics, he can care, “what does it take to bring a lady like yourself out here alone?” His eyes trace her features, and the stallion notes her markings—strange streaks of ebony that curl about the lines of her face. It is quite enchanting.

    tag; @[Rexanna]
    “Speech.”