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02-28-2015, 12:39 AM
A crack to the side and the dark head rises high and levels. Hooves square off and the long tail twists. Trails of weariness still betray him. Wings sag at his side, and eyes are sunken and glazed. This moment was critical. It had to be correct, or the truth would be revealed. After the pain it took to gain this form he was not about to let that happen. Black tipped harks lean in and out steps something rather unexpected: someone unknown. A snort rings through the air and the stripped wings flare out slightly. But he can’t put up much of a fight, he is so worn. Though there is a strong inner core there, he will defend and defeat. The bay is not a coward, and he will not be mistaken for one.
When the silver maned steps forward the blue banded lets his tension ease, but head still hold high. A gruff voice stumbles to him, and harks twitch. Dark head turns slightly considering the creature with a deeper gaze. The golden, hiding behind this dark form did not know this creature, and that was most unexpected. Though he hardly expected to be of interest to the north, the golden prided himself on knowing most of Helovia’s trekkers. Still the bay head eventually dips slightly.
This creature was not at all in good shape, cut and bloody he looked more like a punch bag. Was it possible he could belong to the one he sought? There was only one way to find out. “Helovia?” Sea blue eyes seem to look inward for a moment, and considers some dark thought before gazing out at the horned creature again. “Is there war? Are you-“ He glances to the creature’s bloodied leg. “alright?” He asks most seriously, and laced with concern. A unique voice for this one, it is strong, and smooth, steady but deep. Unlike the sly words of the golden, this one was crafted to keep the slime from tainting his speech.
Inside the golden waited, god how hard it was to let the natural pauses continue themselves. All he wanted to do was shout from the rooftops his questions and get this boring bit done. But all was for a purpose, and the golden would not drop his ruse this day. The bay seems to pick up his sagging wings and force some regalness in his warmblood body with a curve of his muscled neck. “I am Rohan of Algiers.” It was hard to not add his customary, at your service, but the gold applauded himself for the Algiers touch. How long had it been since he said that name? Again though the dark tasseled head tilts slightly and his head seems to reach out slightly. “I hope not to trouble you, but can you tell me more of this, Helovia?” It was a serious question, one of curiosity. It seemed to revive the blue banded creature. The thought of being somewhere new, it was, exciting, adrenaline pumping, but he would know this place before he travelled in it. He would not blindly walk into some hell. Yes the Rohan the gold painted would be a wise creature, strong, yet intelligent. How wonderful it was to weave something so unlike his own self. He was beginning to like playing this Rohan. So while the outside played on, inside a dark laughter was twisting around his soul.
OOC :: @[Rostislav]
Identity Inventory:: Cashmere
Wardrobe:: Satchel (inside:: collapsed polearm, dagger)
"speech"
Posting Poetics
![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
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