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12-04-2016, 08:18 AM
Albrecht
Rose stems, shriveled and broken and bloody piece together a curious trail through the Secret Grove. They seem to have sprung from the hoofprints of some stranger, leaving the snow outside of those round imprints untouched but for the occasional splatter of red pigment, so bright against the clear and white around it. The old stallion follows in these tracks, nose tracing the places where the blooms have rooted and burst, inhaling their faint fragrance of petals and iron.
At first the stems and the stains are all that he finds, but gradually, as he continues to move forward on the path of flowers, the little clusters begin showing more life. An unsullied petal hangs here and there, not yet dissolved into vital fluids, and then he finds a full blossom, delicate and shimmering. Gently he touches the rim of a nostril to its softness, and immediately the flower pops. He jerks back, but not quickly enough to avoid the droplets of crimson from staining his muzzle. He snorts in mixed surprise and distaste, unsure what debilitating diseases might come from bleeding roses, but then a voice splits his attention, pulling his eyes up and farther ahead, right to the source of the roses. He flicks an ear toward the stranger, brows furrowed.
"Musk is an awfully polite way of putting it. Rot and damnation and stench are more apt." 'Stink.' The python at his maneless poll chips in, caught in a rare moment of non-hibernation this mild morning. That too, he silently agrees, more pleased than he cares to admit that the serpent is voluntarily engaging with him again.
"Do you do this?" He asks the grey, glancing between the red of the flowers and the corresponding red of the strangers hind hoof and horn. He notes a certain youthfulness about the grey, a kind of softness, though the black bars around his eyes have a concealing effect on his facial features and expression.
"Alby talks" 'Strom talks'
OOC // @Libertad
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