Albrecht

“Hairy is fine.” He rumbles mildly, disinterested in the common, stiffly rehearsed pleasantries of formal introductions. He much prefers to omit these mindless time wasters from conversation, jumping into a line of dialogue or interaction before the target participant can drift into habit. Even more preferable is to derail those social comforts partway through, tossing the civilized and the well-mannered types completely off their intellectual balance.

His companion, normally tolerant at the least and openly amused at the most by his bondeds antics, seems to suddenly disapprove, a shadow of annoyance dulling their bond. The young snake wants to preserve this budding friendship - he hasn’t missed the way the mare seems to speak to him, personally, and not just the old stallion when she replies, for once the groom and not the groomsman – and wishes fervently for the black to curb his cheekiness for fear of sending her away. The old stallion teases the snake mercilessly, A first crush? He mentally prods, How adorable, but yields to the serpents wish after another moment of silence. He briefly wishes that more Helovians were as comfortable with an amiable silence as the sea-mare seems to be. “But, Albrecht, if you prefer.”

He watches closely for any sign of recognition, any hint of familiarity with the name, but after the total obliviousness of the badger mare in the Threshold – and everyone currently living in the Aurora Basin - he feels his fear of discovery drastically lessening. Whatever magic chose to draw him here, and it must be magic, for no map he’s ever seen of his homeland includes Helovia, Dorobo, or any of the other faraway lands strangers speak of here - from the exile of his home has yet to draw a second time from that same continent. He remains apprehensive though, always braced for the impact.

“At any rate, I think I’m wrinkling – and not from old age.” One overgrown fore-hoof rises above the surface of the water with a grunt of effort and the old stallion examines it thoroughly after being submerged for so long. There’s no visible damage, of course, but that doesn’t prevent his look of distaste. The young python silently snarks through hyperbolic emotions and cartoon images of the two of them that water damage is the least of his worries as far as aesthetics go. If anything, the soak has done him some good in removing a layer or two of filth from his lower half. The stallion shakes himself by way of response. “Now that he’s figured out how to relieve the itchiness, I think we’ll head for drier pastures.”



"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Syrena