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10-05-2016, 10:32 PM
The crafters cave is only halfway down the valley from the hot springs and the small, protected cave at their back, but it's more than far enough to become drenched in the sudden down pouring of rain as it crests the peaks of the Basin and comes rushing downhill towards the walking rack of ribs and grime below. His ears flatten and his nostrils pinch against the driving wind and wet.
"God-fucking-damnit." He hisses between clenched teeth, pausing just long enough to let his serpentine companion wriggle down his crest and into the protective folds of the scarf tied around his neck. 'Run, run.' The python chimes from his pocket of dryness and warmth, bemused at the thought of his bonded running anywhere, a picture of skeletal Albrecht clinking and clanging along in cartoon fashion blooming between their minds. The stallion lurches forward into a canter, his spidery legs carrying the pair over ground at a surprising speed. "Gonna be awfully hard for you to walk so far with no legs." He grumbles between panting breaths, but when his nose curls to his chest it's to check for any slipping of the fabric there and not to dump its contents.
He charges toward the peppermint ponys cave with half slit eyes and takes the last few strides in front of and over the threshold in a final bound of effort, skidding to an unceremonious halt just inside the cavern. "Oh." He breathes, surprised to find the quote-unquote fortune teller from the aurora festival already inside. He shuffles back a step, but stays well within the cover of the stone roof, loathe to go outside again before the weather clears. "Is Johnny-" He begins but breaks off abruptly, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the cave and revealing a medium sized egg at the mares hooves.
Stroms head pokes out of his makeshift hammock, curiosity flicking his tongue at rapid speed. 'Hatch?' He asks, but they can all see the hairline cracks spreading across the shells surface now. "Gonna get the bull to go with your shit?" The stallion asks, shaking water from his coat and beard like some giant, emaciated dog, heedless of where the displaced moisture might land.
"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Aisling
"God-fucking-damnit." He hisses between clenched teeth, pausing just long enough to let his serpentine companion wriggle down his crest and into the protective folds of the scarf tied around his neck. 'Run, run.' The python chimes from his pocket of dryness and warmth, bemused at the thought of his bonded running anywhere, a picture of skeletal Albrecht clinking and clanging along in cartoon fashion blooming between their minds. The stallion lurches forward into a canter, his spidery legs carrying the pair over ground at a surprising speed. "Gonna be awfully hard for you to walk so far with no legs." He grumbles between panting breaths, but when his nose curls to his chest it's to check for any slipping of the fabric there and not to dump its contents.
He charges toward the peppermint ponys cave with half slit eyes and takes the last few strides in front of and over the threshold in a final bound of effort, skidding to an unceremonious halt just inside the cavern. "Oh." He breathes, surprised to find the quote-unquote fortune teller from the aurora festival already inside. He shuffles back a step, but stays well within the cover of the stone roof, loathe to go outside again before the weather clears. "Is Johnny-" He begins but breaks off abruptly, eyes adjusting to the dim light of the cave and revealing a medium sized egg at the mares hooves.
Stroms head pokes out of his makeshift hammock, curiosity flicking his tongue at rapid speed. 'Hatch?' He asks, but they can all see the hairline cracks spreading across the shells surface now. "Gonna get the bull to go with your shit?" The stallion asks, shaking water from his coat and beard like some giant, emaciated dog, heedless of where the displaced moisture might land.
"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Aisling
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