.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
10-09-2012, 04:59 AM
The gray mare honestly had a problem or two to sort out with her own attitude. Mauja's ears flipped back against his neck, a lazy show of displeasure; it wasn't annoying enough that he'd push them flat as if his life depended on it, but someone had to teach her manners. Besides, the mysterious stallion had it right: if she didn't like him, she didn't have to stick around, but she snuggled up to the Pegasus like a leech. He doubted they'd get rid of her anytime soon, and as her sharp reply to his name - or lack thereof - rang out, Mauja turned his eyes upon her, glaring. "And his lack of manners somehow justify your own? Please, stop being such a hypocrite." Besides, she was the one who had started it, running up to him and mooning at him like a lovestruck filly. That he didn't want anyone shoving their face into his and staring as if he was some god, well, that was understandable. Mauja didn't like having strangers in his face either, and that she'd gotten bitchy when Asni had tried to educate her a little about manners didn't exactly raise his opinion of her. Sure, nobody was perfect, but at least Asni was disrespectful in a respectful way.
Both the pegasus and the annoying mare grew quiet when Rishima approached and challenged them all, leaving the three to deal the first blows. Asni remained on his side - not surprising, he felt like someone who would not allow his words to be challenged by anyone - delivering words that traced a chilly finger down Mauja's spine. The most constant... He'd come here looking for a tree, a twisted, stunted, gnarled thing, something of the past - he could not remember ever seeing trees on the Steppe, though. The horizons had been the same, the tundra the same, but the tree was no more. "The trees are gone," he said, a statement quite out of the blue under the circumstances - as if he'd just woken from a daydream full of trees. Briefly, he looked at Asni, trying to see if he'd know. He proclaimed to know the Steppe intimately, so perhaps he'd know of its past - how long ago trees had stood upon it. Or, well, one tree. And then, he could not fight the overwhelming urge to correct Rishima anymore. "Snow doesn't melt when new snow covers it," he said, something vaguely irritated in his voice, compared to its previous neutrality. "It just piles up, higher and higher. If it ever melts, its from the top down, where the sun hits it. I doubt this ground has thawed at all for many years." He shook his head, white mane flying. "Even blizzards are static. Snow does not change." And that is why I never change. |
