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07-21-2014, 11:55 AM
DRAGOMIR The painted boy had been lingering along the borders for a while, carrying with him the supplies necessary for the completion of the agreement he had come to with a mare called Parelia. His gourd rested at his hooves, leaning against the straight pillars of his legs, filled with a large number of the blue stones she had indicated a fondness for and some pale blue cerulean pieces to tint the rest of the glass with. He would need her here to properly fit them, but as a tradesman, he had assured he was going to receive what he’d asked for before creating the items for her. The scent of the mare, infused with pregnancy hormones and the green smell of that land just north of the Threshold, meets his nostrils and draws his lips downward to grasp at his container before he sets off after the general direction from which the scent wafts. He silently berates himself for not having chosen a more easterly waiting point, but the time it takes to discover her is short and he paints his usual cheerful (albeit shy) smile on his face as he stops before the ivory and sky toned mare. Arranged at her hooves are many different types of herbs, for which he is grateful because it means his preparations were not in vain. Lifting his eyes from the pile of plants, he clears his throat with a short rumble and begins the process of greeting and completing what they are both here for. "Good afternoon," he says cordially after returning his gourd to the earth, "thank you for bringing the herbs." His nod is sincere, if the light in his gaze doesn’t portray as much already; he half expected to wait here for weeks and not see hide nor hair of the pretty pegasus mare. She’s gotten broader in the time between their last meeting and this one, pregnancy a strange and foreign thing that happens to women and baffles him for the most part – but she does smell good, as if she’s been saturated in spring and warm feelings of comfort and love. He wonders if all pregnant mares smell this way. "I’ve got all the things I’ll need here if you are ready to start," he adds, deep voice friendly and excited to begin work – its one of the few things in his monotonous life that gives him a sense of truly belonging and doing what one is meant to be doing. @[Brisa] CrafteR world's edge |
Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3
