.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
10-03-2015, 01:09 PM
Tembovu
Blue eyes flick away from the charcoal stag and towards the sudden reappearance of the tigress. She walks silently on the snow— and Tembovu finds himself eying her warmth, thick pelt with longing. “It’s alright, I can’t say that I wouldn’t welcome a spar with a tigress right now,” “Though I must admit, I’m envious of her coat, given this frigid Frostfall,” as if to drive his point home, his words form clouds around them in the frozen dawn air. He chuckles as the other stallion does, though it is short lived.
His eyes briefly bounce from the feline, to the equine, then come to rest on the lightening horizon. Quietly he waits for the man to think over his answer. It, surprisingly, is a comfortable silence. It is hard to feel awkward or strained in the peacefulness of predawn, especially so close to the heavens. That is why the elephant had sought out this field during his dark thoughts.
Another short, rumbling chuckle escapes him as Ciceron speaks, for indeed the silver stag voiced exactly the other set of concerns that plagued himself. Too many projects as Glazier— he was sure which to attack first. “I can reckon with having too much on my plate, as well. It’s like we’re kinsmen,” he jested through his chuckle.
His eyes leave the skies for the other’s face once again, studying it in time to see the happiness flee it. He was familiar with the feeling— the feeling of having past demons strip the happiness, the purpose from life. Empathy stirred in his barrel, as he watched the rapid blinks attempt to dispel the ghosts. He was all to familiar with that, as well.
He turns his head to the feline, feeling the predatory and inquiring blue gaze upon them. He nods once in greeting, large head swirling through the cold air, “I am Tembovu of the Edge.” He says simply, leaving titles for another time. He shifts his weight, resting a hind leg as the barest sliver of sun dared to peak above the horizon.
It would be a gentle sunrise. Muted purples, grays, and pinks softly painted their palette against the dark blue of predawn. A soft sigh escaped him, as he willed this peaceful sky into his wrecked soul. “What ghosts plague you, that you need to forget them?” He finds his deep voice rumbling, seeking an outward distraction from his own internal beasts. His question his quiet, not pushing the stud to answer if he does not wish. Though he cannot deny that his curiosity is piqued.
His eyes briefly bounce from the feline, to the equine, then come to rest on the lightening horizon. Quietly he waits for the man to think over his answer. It, surprisingly, is a comfortable silence. It is hard to feel awkward or strained in the peacefulness of predawn, especially so close to the heavens. That is why the elephant had sought out this field during his dark thoughts.
Another short, rumbling chuckle escapes him as Ciceron speaks, for indeed the silver stag voiced exactly the other set of concerns that plagued himself. Too many projects as Glazier— he was sure which to attack first. “I can reckon with having too much on my plate, as well. It’s like we’re kinsmen,” he jested through his chuckle.
His eyes leave the skies for the other’s face once again, studying it in time to see the happiness flee it. He was familiar with the feeling— the feeling of having past demons strip the happiness, the purpose from life. Empathy stirred in his barrel, as he watched the rapid blinks attempt to dispel the ghosts. He was all to familiar with that, as well.
He turns his head to the feline, feeling the predatory and inquiring blue gaze upon them. He nods once in greeting, large head swirling through the cold air, “I am Tembovu of the Edge.” He says simply, leaving titles for another time. He shifts his weight, resting a hind leg as the barest sliver of sun dared to peak above the horizon.
It would be a gentle sunrise. Muted purples, grays, and pinks softly painted their palette against the dark blue of predawn. A soft sigh escaped him, as he willed this peaceful sky into his wrecked soul. “What ghosts plague you, that you need to forget them?” He finds his deep voice rumbling, seeking an outward distraction from his own internal beasts. His question his quiet, not pushing the stud to answer if he does not wish. Though he cannot deny that his curiosity is piqued.
@Ciceron So so sorry for the delay!! <3
Please tag Tembovu.
