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A soft, faint cry rings over the meadow. Golden harks like serpent heads turn towards the right of him. Thranduil paused for a moment for the call troubled him. It was not from any bird he had yet heard on this earth. He picked at the grass now, his mind now focused on finding the cry’s maker. At last a snap of a twig, the vibration of the ground. It was big. Too big to make such a light cry. What else was out there? One hark slid back under his horn. Big things were more dangerous than small things. Yet one hark zoned in. Nares pulled in what they could. Damn this spring. He could only find pollen, fresh grass, for the wind was not his friend at the moment and blew in from over his back on the left. Still it did not sound like this creature was trying to hide anyway. Whoever was heading towards the grazing golden they did not care if they were heard. Reckless, or almighty? And they certainly knew where they were headed, or should we say who they were headed towards for there was no hesitation. Yet wait, what was that? Under the pounding of this large something lighter, smaller, danced with it. It was hard to make out and had the steps not been careless he would not have heard. What caused this lighter one’s feet to lag? Louder the sounds grew, this couple (where their more?) were wasting no time. They were at the edge now, eyes could spot from the side shadows moving, growing larger. One last smile flirted across his face. He at last had some playmates.
When the large beast stepped into the light the golden had already put up his mask. Chocolate eyes were focused on the ground below and harks rested at ease upon his head. His hide hung over a relaxed skeleton, and lion like tail twitched with the pleasure of being in the sun, or was it in calculation? It was hard to keep on this charade as he wanted to see so badly exactly who was coming towards him. And perhaps it was over presumptuous of the creature to be seemingly relaxed before a stranger, but the golden boy thought all was under control. At last when the brute spoke the golden head raised up his twin horns and saw fully what prey had wanted to play today.
It was indeed a large brute, heavy with draft blood. Placing as glazed and dull a look as he could over his eyes, hoping to hide what he was doing, he searched the picture before him. The brute (for that was a class A brute) was thick, and hairy, but stood just a wee bit below Thranduil’s own height. This ebbed some fears of a mammoth having been headed for the golden hide. Yet, a strange odor, coppery almost, lingered on him, which made the gold unicorn hesitate. Still the brute was a bore. It was what stood slightly behind him that caused the palo’s head to spin into gear. It, according to his nares (at last close enough to something to tell), was a lady. The sunlight caught her coat and white dazzled his eyes. Her feminine curves were light and smooth, for she was the one he heard under the stomps of the mammoth. Why was she seeming to hide behind him, and he so well, ok with this? Alas thought the brute interrupted his wanderings and his mind began to swirl anew. Now he wanted to know, who were these new playmates?
Course, harsh, and gloomy vowels slid into the air. Helovia. He had not heard of it. Was it this creature’s land? Did he own a land? Who the hell was this. Crash. It fit the brute. Aurora Basin? Now they were getting somewhere. The pieces of who this Crash was, were beginning to fit. He did not, it seemed to the golden, own the land he claims to be from, for king’s are not apt to leave out their titles in introductions. Besides with the rash, course speech and nature so far seen Crash would make a poor royal. So not a king, not a ruler, moving on. Arah. Ah, there the lass steps up and fully into view. The light white unicorn though was a pretty little thing indeed, a full-fledged swan. Yet something was amiss. Though her coat shown white her nature seemed to twist it to grey. Scars, some still being held together by magic ran light over her skin, like someone had drawn in pencil on white paper. Who had caused those stains the golden wondered. Perhaps that is why her steps were weary and she stood behind the beast. Or was he their maker? Ah, so many questions. What fun. It was the ugly duckling story but in reverse. Still a swan she was and what’s more her head was crowned not only with antlers to make any stag ashamed, but an ice crown that glittered and played freely with the light. An ice crown? This land must be bigger than he thought if ice was to be found, and more over a crown? Ah what had that clunking brute said, a delightful maiden? Surely you would not address a queen as such, so the thought of royalty passed from his mind. Yet the image stayed, a swan royal. How cute. Cute, and little, a princess not a queen. Yes the little swan princess. A nickname with more sarcasm than affection. She seemed steady, yet weary, was that why she let the stallion take charge?
Before Thranduil could speak Crash cut in again, and it took all that was in the golden son to keep from rolling his eyes or jerking his head (for indeed Thranduil had tried to keep as still, passive, and blank as possible, whether or not he succeeded is yet to be seen). Brother. That blumbing brute was no kin of his. Thank god. But a place to stay…Feathers broke his thoughts. One hark twitched to the swan’s back where a creature stirred. He did not hide this time that his head turned there, and he openly watched as a bird…no cat…lighted into the air. A griffon. He had seen one only once before and it had been much bigger. His eyes followed it until at last the swan spoke. Her vocals were smooth, yet controlled. Too much controlled. Wynter. So that was the blue eyed birdie that stared down at him. Mind rolled as he did not enjoy the scrutiny of that creature. It gave a cry, making it clear that that creature was the one who ‘found’ him before. Perhaps it was a pet of the lady. Still the swan spoke again. She was not as brash and the brute beside her. In fact, exactly the opposite. What is it these two had in common? Now it was his turn, gathering his thoughts the beast smiled through his mask.
The horned head dipped to them and he turned to Crash. It would be two against one if this went wrong, but then did Thranduil ever have the odds in his favor? Liquid vocals slipped from his tongue, were they venom or clear water? “You would invite me to your lands before knowing even my name brother? Tsk, tsk.” Head stretched out with his question and then shook back in. Gold flaked eyes watched him carefully, taking it in, before turning to the grey doe. He smiled at her, and softened his face, perhaps she would take it as kindness. “Thankfully your swan princess saves the conversation, as ladies always seem to do.” Horned head dipped to her again with a smile and he let his body relax, cocking one hip. Keeping it that way was getting harder, with so many questions floating about his head involving her overcast face, his authority, and their relationship. He was even proud of himself for not leaning forward and bouncing around the two like a puppy finding friends. Only, keep in mind, this puppy was more like a snake. Not to mention talking so civilly and shallow was inside as sickening as eating two pounds of candy. “Thranduil, at your service.” Soft chocolate eyes lingered on swan princess. He wanted her to speak. Crash was well…brash, and in all honesty, the coppery odor lingering about him was still keeping the golden wary. So it was to Arah, or Princess as her name now ran through his head that he addressed the question, keeping a hark on the draft, but otherwise full attention on her. “Perhaps dear swan, might you tell me more of this Aurora Basin?”
OOC: *runs from the word count* Yikes! Got a bit away from me there, again so sorry. I usually only write 500 or so, so don’t worry about a lengthy reply, any will do.
"blah blah blah."
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