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01-03-2016, 08:36 AM
(This post was last modified: 01-20-2016, 07:21 AM by Albrecht.
Edit Reason: Per Admin Request
)
Albrecht The old stallion groans as a swathe of white takes up center stage in his vision and he temporarily mistakes it for a massive snow bank. The jagged peaks surrounding this relatively flat valley seem to keep the worst of the weather at bay, but he supposes they can only do so much as the heavy clouds of Frostfall inch closer and closer. Black lips curl in disgust as anticipation triggers a mental crunch of ice beneath his hooves and the seeping, clinging cold long before either are physically felt. Complaints spark unchecked from his tongue, "Does no one here believe in fucking road maintenance? Does it look like I need to be traipsing through a fucking-" but as he approaches the white mass takes on sharper details. He can see smooth sheets of canvas billowing where breezes penetrate and wrapping tight to a frame of what he can only guess are stripped branches in others. He quiets abruptly, a frustrated snort dismissing memories of days when a few meters of distance didn’t blur his vision to shit. He’s never seen a tent before, but he assumes from the prominent location that it’s meant to be a gathering of some sort. Poking his head through the opening created by Tall-Dark-and-Uncivilized’s horn he peruses the interior of the tent. At its center lies a mound of various bits and pieces, apparently free to anyone who wants them. Well, he’s always up for freebies. The bony senior lumbers forward, fully intending to sift through his options when a cloying, choking scent of peppermint draws his attention elsewhere. Peppermint-Patty-Himself stands nearby another young stallion, some sort of fluffy pouch strapped around his effeminate middle and brimming with similar items to what is already assembled. The black realizes with unshrouded disappointment that they are meant to leave items, not claim them. Always the Party-Pooper, he lifts his tail and deposits a few brown bundles to the mound. Don’t say I never gave ya nothin’. His copper beard waggles with what could almost be cheer as he turns to depart the little festival. 'Tis the season after all. // OOC: So uhm. That happened. Brown paint anyone? xD Edited so that it doesn't sound like he's completely left already. He's still in the tent, just to be clear. Sorry! The Curmudgeon |
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