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05-28-2015, 02:33 PM
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“Guard of the North sing your Song of the Snow” That he was not the 'object of interest' here did not particularly bother the man. If anything, a slightly more impatient part of him chafed at the pleasantries that were exchanged, the information shared that could very well be learned on the no-doubt long trip to the Basin. But, alas, people liked to chitchat and waste precious time as if it was eternal(which it was, but they as mortals, were not.). A single curled ear pricked as the golden man mentioned a place called the 'Arch', curiosity illuminating Sial's eyes from an otherwise blank face. Arch... it sounded intriguing. To Neschume's comment on his name he merely gave a faint grunt, and nothing more. It was not a 'pleasure'. Pleasure was rutting, fighting and being surrounded by those faint few one could trust. Giving a portion of a name he did not choose was no pleasure, nor did it seem right to him that she derived pleasure from it. Ech, mayhap he was overthinking, but things such as this merely made no sense to Sial. As more useless bile of flattery and flirtation slid from Thranduil's lips to the mare, Carnassial promptly lost interest. Giving no care to whether or not it was rude, he ducked his head and began running his long horn around the edges of his hooves and in between; this sharpened both hoof and horn, and did a wonderful job of keeping the foul leaf-rot and mud from getting between his cloven feet. Once that was done he wiped his horn against the inside of his leg, careful not to slice himself before looking back at the golden man and voluptuous woman. By this time Neschume returned to her tree, and asked a question that, if he had been able to, would have had Sial pinching the bridge of his nose in frustration. Was there snow? Was she daft? Both seemed to be an absolute 'yes'. "Maybe. Depends on how tall the mountains are. Some keep snow eternal, some blossom and some remain lifeless." However considering the growing bite in the air(the dew this morning had been borderline chilly upon his feathered hocks), it was pretty much safe to say there would be snow. And she went daft again, another utterly... asinine question spilling from a pretty face that, so far, did not seem to possess any sort of brains. Or perhaps she was just sheltered. Irregardless, Carnassial had little patience for it, and deemed fit to not comment with anything but a quiet snort, his attention swinging to Thranduil, gaze focusing upon him with an unwavering intensity that the man seemed to always possess, his voice quiet as he awaited for the Basin representative to either take them on their merry way or sit around and blather more to the pretty woman. @[Neschume] @[Thranduil] |
