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11-13-2016, 09:18 PM
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tarik
What doesn't kill me better run. I need a drink. Now that was about the most sensible thing anyone had said in the past three hours or so. Without so much as a smirk (alcohol was no laughing matter, kids), Tarik looked to his brother and nodded gravely. So did he. Before he could offer his thoughts on their current location, suddenly their trio began increasing at a rate far faster than he was used to. The stallion's sea-blue eyes narrowed slightly, and his thick neck crested farther as he studied the one..two..thr-four mares who had arrived to greet them. "I think we've died and gone to Valhalla, brother." Tarik remarked, his voice completely even and smooth. His accent was thick, northern, nordic, and his words were so dry, it would have likely been impossible for those who did not know him, to decide whether or not he was joking. His eyes greedily took in the four mares before them, lingering on each one as if they were each a delicacy, but he was only entitled to one. Huldra had began speaking for them as she normally did, but this did not deter Tarik from formulating his own thoughts on the matter. The mare Tiamat reminded him of the sea. She looked like the sirens of legend that he had heard tales of. Glacia, with her stout body and thickly feathered hooves looked as though she would be fit in in any of the courts in their homeland. Nephele looked like the wenches they often found when they stopped at a port; fiery, promiscuous, and unafraid. Normally that would have appealed to him... ...were it not for Sohalia. Mares did not come in shades as pale as she was, back in their homeland. Nor did they come as elegantly built. The mares that he found himself accompanied by as of late were ... well, just like Huldra. Attitudes so large you could sleep inside of them, with wit for days. Were they easy on the eyes? Sure. Especially after a pint or 8. But they had bags under their eyes in the morning and skin that was baked by the sun. They were not, in short, anything like The Transcended. "And who might you be?" Tarik asked, dry intonation gone, replaced by charm that seemed ill-befitting the rather rugged, dread-locked man. But before your skepticism drowns you in disbelief, do remember that he's lived hundreds of years. You do learn a thing or two in all that time (to be fair, you also forget most of it over the decades as well). "Are you someone's wench in this Dragon's Throat?" Though the word wench normally would have sounded hostile, it sounded so very like a compliment upon his rugged lips. His eyes tried to find Sohalia's and he refrained from letting them drift to the sleek lines of her body. Perhaps landing here wasn't so bad after all. |
Oops. I am literally unable to help myself from hitting on Rayo's characters Q__Q
