Albrecht

Height gives the old man a distinct advantage in gaining his bearings in the whitewashed landscape, though age robs his emerald eyes of the clarity they once had. He can see that the colt is heading in the direction of a forest at least, and that he's backtracking - more or less - over his own zigzagging trail through the snow, which is all well and good so long as the boy didn't travel in widening circles or some other nonsensical manner on his trip out here, something that children are prone to do with their gnat sized attention spans. He sighs a noise of minor complaint, but falls in behind the lad anyway, unwilling to send him on without some kind of adult escort and clearly expected to do so already with the way the boy is walking and talking at the same time, not even glancing behind to be sure of his company. 'Stupid,' Comes a bitter commentary, jealousy and envy coloring the bond between horse and snake. The black pins his ears, mentally snapping in reply; Don't be such a clingy cry-baby.

The snake recoils sharply. If he had brows they would have been pinched uncomfortably, torn between hurt and anger, but limited as he is, he just wriggles within his wool confines, bumping roughly against the stallions chest in protest. The stallion shakes his head, as annoyed with his companions childish behavior - and realizing with the thought that he is just a child, really - as he is with his own inability to explain the conflict between them away. When he sighs a second time it's with much more sincerity, his head low and ragged beard brushing strange shapes into the snow as he trails along behind his son.

He's never actually been to the Dragons Throat before, only lingered around the outskirts to catch the occasional update on Sabias pregnancy. He hasn't heard much about it either, sequestered away behind the peaks of the Basin, so when the boy excitedly dangles some well rehearsed narrative he flicks his ears forward to listen, as much interested in the answer as in the boys grasp of the world around him. Every father wants their children to be prodigies after all. "Why's that?" He asks, shortening his long stride to stay even with the colts smaller, irregular steps.



"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Saoirse We can have them travel for a bit and/or start a thread in the Throat. Maybe you can smuggle me in. xD