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02-08-2017, 01:08 PM
As is peculiarly common for the painted man, he comes upon a gathering of women, preparing to create something, by the painstaking efforts they seem to be taking to remove brush, branches, and saplings from the area. He might have carried on, leaving them to their task, and he to his musing, if there had not been two among them who he knew; one of which, the Mountain, was among those he considered to be a growing friend, especially considering their shared interest in stones, and making. For a very brief while, he had served her within the Falls, but now, it would seem, they both served Alysanne, the gardener. What a peculiar world they lived in, he thinks with a smile, wishing, as he comes into the clearing, that Letha was with him, to witness what teamwork could accomplish, in the very land he had first seen it, himself. All those years ago, it had been a great, golden dragon, not a bronze companion, aiding to clear the brush and trees, and the object in question had been a wall, not, well, whatever this was to be. Ambling among them, he shares a smile and nod of greeting with his once Czarina, and Yael, as well, while giving the others a more humble, reserved glance, and bob of his muzzle. Seemingly not alone in his lack of comprehension as to what was going on, Yael’s question mirrors his own, and so he joins another mare, peculiar with her feather’s arrangement, among those who serve the efforts in silence. Finding a suitable task, the removal of a rather large, fallen (and rotting) trunk, his large hooves heavily thud against the weary wood, occasionally splintering free a large chunk, which he carries off to the side. |
Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3
