But it was a superficial feeling, for beneath his current, gentle doze roiled a number of thoughts and emotions. Memories from the Isles, of a pale and golden face shattered by him, slithered through the bottom of his thoughts. It disappeared in the murk of sleepiness as another memory surfaced— this one of two blood smeared white bodies lying in the sands. It, too, sank into oblivion, as overwhelming uncertainty enveloped his floating mind. The peaceful had left him, apparently.
A snort escapes him as he suddenly roused himself— clearly peaceful napping was not possible for the King. His head raises, eyes now opened and adjusting to the sunlight that came through the trees. With a shift of his great weight, his haunches resettle evenly, no longer cocking a hind leg. Briefly, in the scattered thoughts of rousing, he realized that not once had his past come to haunt him during the cascade of dark thoughts. It was a blessing in disguise. Time in Helovia had been healing thus far, despite the tragedies.
Splayed, large ears perk as a faint, familiar young voice drifts into their black rims. What was that little, icy bundle of sass getting into? Two-toned legs of cream and ebony begin to carry the Elephant through the trees, towards the pearly hybrid’s vocals.
He halts, eyes falling not on a white filly but on a pale stallion of slender build and long legs. Golden horns crown his face of subdued elegance— overall he was uniquely new to the Edge. Despite the athleticism apparent in his body, there was a defeat with which his head hung. “Are you alright?” His low, rumbling voice was quiet as he inquired after the cremello stud. Dark blue eyes of of the giant glance towards Erthe, bobbing his head with a warm smile in dreeting, before returning his eyes to the newcomer.
“You are new to the Edge?” The undercurrent of his words asking more for an explanation of who the man was.