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His bright gaze settles on the horned enchantress when she speaks, lips twisting with the shadow of a smirk as he allows her to fill his mind’s eye with promising and mystical pictures of the North. It certainly is an intriguing idea, his heart’s wanderlust excited at the thought of scouring the frosty mountains, his rugged body working to carry him to the precipices of this new world. He believes himself to be a creature of bravery, even if it is a foolish guise and hardly though-out. Where would the adventure, the unknown be then?
All the same, he can’t help but frown to himself at the idea of a place that only accepts those of its own kind. When it comes to species, class, or rank, the Warlander is hardly meticulous in how those particular facts divide one from another. If someone is an ass, it is because they have made themselves an ass—not because nature has given them wings instead of a horn. The dark lady is careful to clarify their reasoning—merely out of want to be around their own kind—which he supposes he can allow himself to understand. Perhaps racism is a thing here, and it would certainly be a reprieve to return to a home that doesn’t harbor such prejudices. Heavens know Etherim hadn’t been entirely impartial either.
Flicking his unruly tail, Rohan ponders Sialia’s words, struggling between himself. She seems to be a beguiling creature herself, surely cloaked in an enigma that is shrouded with charm, and for a moment he wonders if it is the vessel rather than the harbor that has so ensnared him (a feat not unknown to the often-amorous stallion). A smug smile skews his dark lips, not entirely put off by the idea. But, for once, it is not for a pretty siren that he is searching this day, and his musings are momentarily pushed back as his attentions return to the task at hand.
Thor takes the lead then, beginning with a little history lesson. One side of the Warlander’s brow rises at the mention of the invasion of Hidden Falls, his eyes flickering to Lakota, wondering on what side she had stood during that particular movement. Having been oblivious to the silent exchange between the two earlier, he wonders if they have met previously, and considering what their pasts must encompass, how amusing it would be.
Pricking his ears, Rohan’s gaze wanders back to the draft stallion. World’s Edge does not spin the mysterious pictures in his mind as Aurora Basin did, although the idea of an exiled Goddess does sound interesting (he reminds himself of the series of murders bit, even if, admittedly, it does little to sway his intrigue). He is not the religious type, but his thoughts roam to wonder what sort of land is held patron to a creature that is so…hazardous. Not to mention that there is no talk of their own kind, and proactive leaders is surely a favorable direction. With bile rising to his tongue, Rohan remembers his own father had done little more than rot on his throne while spitting orders about. It would be a favorable change indeed to see kings of a different nature.
“I daresay you both have spun promising arguments,” the striped stallion ponders. He takes a short moment to consider each of them, pursing his brown lips and flaring his nostrils as he exhales, his green eyes falling to Sialia. “While your Aurora Basin does sound fascinating, I am going to accept Thor’s offer to the World’s Edge. If I find that his misty seas aren’t satisfying enough, then I will journey north. I don’t imagine this will be our last farewell,” his lips skew into another smirk, bright eyes twinkling as he turns to Thor, assuming he will lead the way.
Tag; @[Thor] & @[Sialia]
Notes; Would this change his status to World's Edge, or an outcast?
“Speech.”
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