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As the sun rose, the desert sentinel returned home from his patrols. The beast's mighty body glistened with light sweat, his flight fast and hard. There was no time for idleness in his mind, and every second he was alive and on duty he was training himself in some way. Each of his muscles were taught against his thick black hide, his wings pulling him higher on a warm draft of air. The stallion did not need any key to enter the island, though he had used them before. When he was the Gladiator of the lands, Einarr possessed a key to the Dragon's Throat. Now, however, as a warrior only, he had no key--and he had no need for it.
Without Gaucho, Einarr was no bloodrider. He had no khal to protect, no warrior king to die for.
He would spit at the hooves of the current leads before he hailed himself their bloodrider. They did not deserve his heart. Gaucho deserved his heart. His children deserved his heart. They were the only things keeping him on these sands, and so he performed his duties for them. Although Aithniel was the daughter of the Sun, and Einarr respected her, she did not share the same place in his mind as the Wildfire.
His dark shadow moved across the waters separating them--the desert dwellers--from the rest of Helovia, and a movement of red beneath him caught his attention. Sienna eyes flicked down to his daughter, and he smiled somewhat warmly, landing with a hefty thud before her. einarr
bright lights swing across the road but no one seems to know just where I’ll put my feet down next brown eyes, come with me tonight you could be my Bonnie and I will be your Clyde |
@Vastra
if you bury me, i'll bury you
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