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05-12-2016, 08:56 AM
He feels trapped, claustrophobic, unable to free himself and struggling to stay as he is. Hind leg still frozen in midair, his muscles begin to cramp and quiver under the strain of holding himself up, his raised hoof swaying and dipping unsteadily. The heat of his anger dissipates and gives way to the intoxicating drone of panic as it vibrates through his senses, rational thought having failed to resolve the problem and reluctantly stepping down to instinct, but instinct tells him to fight - kick, thrash, escape - and the barbs at his loin expressly forbid it. His ears flatten in frustration, their bases damp with sweat. He can smell it on himself, stress releasing fear hormones against his better judgment, and the scent itself balloons his response, making him feel wild and overly sensitive.
He jumps at the sound of another nearby and swings his head around to assess the stranger, wincing with the repercussions of his thoughtless movement. At first glance he thinks he recognizes the black-and-white, but Ezital from the Heart Caves had antlers framing his white face and it was his hind legs that wore stockings, not his front. This fellow is a good bit larger than Ezital, maybe taller than Albrecht himself, and has no visible horns, but maybe an unknown rescuer is for the best anyway, given the old mans propensity for inciting dislike. It's not like Ezital had taken his leave on good terms.
“Delicate’s not my forte I’m afraid. I don’t suppose you have the power of telekinesis?” Green eyes subdued by his own misfortune skim the stallions impassive face, then focus past it on the mass of golden scales perched over his withers. His ears flick forward in interest. “Or maybe a small-handed companion?” He's seen a dragon before and though they all seem to have their own anomalies of color, size, and shape, he recognizes the basic body conformation. This one doesn't seem overly impressed or eager to do anything but turn her bonded into a walking pin cushion - Aren't companions supposed to love their bondeds? - but maybe she could be persuaded to a more gentle disposition. He cocks his head in what he hopes is an endearing manner, brows pinched together in a beseeching please-help-me-but-at-the-same-time-don't-hurt-me kind of way.
OOC // @Volterra
He jumps at the sound of another nearby and swings his head around to assess the stranger, wincing with the repercussions of his thoughtless movement. At first glance he thinks he recognizes the black-and-white, but Ezital from the Heart Caves had antlers framing his white face and it was his hind legs that wore stockings, not his front. This fellow is a good bit larger than Ezital, maybe taller than Albrecht himself, and has no visible horns, but maybe an unknown rescuer is for the best anyway, given the old mans propensity for inciting dislike. It's not like Ezital had taken his leave on good terms.
“Delicate’s not my forte I’m afraid. I don’t suppose you have the power of telekinesis?” Green eyes subdued by his own misfortune skim the stallions impassive face, then focus past it on the mass of golden scales perched over his withers. His ears flick forward in interest. “Or maybe a small-handed companion?” He's seen a dragon before and though they all seem to have their own anomalies of color, size, and shape, he recognizes the basic body conformation. This one doesn't seem overly impressed or eager to do anything but turn her bonded into a walking pin cushion - Aren't companions supposed to love their bondeds? - but maybe she could be persuaded to a more gentle disposition. He cocks his head in what he hopes is an endearing manner, brows pinched together in a beseeching please-help-me-but-at-the-same-time-don't-hurt-me kind of way.
OOC // @Volterra
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