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04-19-2015, 01:53 PM
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Bucephalus
There's something just magical about flight. Period.
-Graham Hawkes (Figured this wasn't near the bridge, so having the pillars lay in the sand. Later I can have a post where Buce gets Gaucho and the other crafters to help drag/raise the pillars by the bridge?) The black hadn't stopped humming as he worked, the tune deep, flowing and rippling with the metal. It had been long since he heard metal's song, but he could still mimic it rather well...or as well as any equine throat could. There were notes far deeper and more drawn out than his lungs and vocals could manage. By the time Gaucho returned, one pillar lay in the sand, the other half-finished. Sweat coated the black's hide, slicking his tangled mane to his neck, his tail to his legs. He was tired, but still moved around briskly, circling the half-completed pillar, eyeing it critically, pressing gems against the metal where he saw fit. Bucephalus lifted his head, blinking a few times before he bowed his head in thanks. He wasn't precisely surprised at the amount of ore the dun managed to haul; he was strong, far stronger than the black. "Thank you... another day we can drag these to the bridge... unless you want to do it today?" He asked with dry amusement, walking over and rolling chunks of the ore closer to the incomplete project before he continued to work again, humming in the depths of his chest, standing completely still as the metal flowed to match the shape burned into his mind. The pillars were done. With a relieved breath Buce dropped his head, rubbing his muzzle against a sweat-slicked leg. He wanted nothing more to do now than jump in the oasis to clean off and cool down. @[Gaucho] |
