a glaziers pace (crafting glass, open)

a glaziers pace (crafting glass, open)

Tor Posts: 197

World's Edge Nurse

Mare :: Equine :: 17.1 :: 9

Adoptable

12-12-2012, 09:27 PM

[Image: winter_snow_by_ladyfey-d5g626q.png]

Glass. Dark blue glass flowed, twisted, turned, carved as the glazier worked, melding and forming and welding together the heavy pieces, eyes almost vacant, seeming far far away. There was silence. A mare came, another, but time was trickling through the invisible hourglass like water pouring through hands. In other words, Tor did not know, nor really cared, when they came. But he did complete his work, many hours later, and Tor had realized she had stiffened and her knees had locked.

For the WingLeader. The stallion had said, as he slowly folded to the ground, looking exhausted. Armor. Blue and dark, draconic as well. Intimidating. No, she didn't know him. Why did Tor love him? Why? You know nothing about him. Not who he likes, who he dislikes, who his friends are. You are an outsider- an Outcast. It seemed only then did her title hit her. Not Tor the Wandering Healer, not Tor of the Foothills, not Tor of the Edge- Tor the Outcast.

The draft considers making a quick exit, now that so many mares have appeared to coo to his ears and stroke him with soft words. Maybe he loves the black mare who approaches him on silent feet. There is a moment of hostility, of completely out-of-place jealousy blossoming in the mare's belly, before she pushes it away firmly with a shake of her head. It wasn't her place to tell any other mare away from him. He's not mine. "A fine gift to your herd." She says, uncomfortable, and with a slight duck of her head, the marbled lady moves away.

She cannot thinking about the mares surrounding him, even the filly.

Does he love one of them? Or does his heart really belong to no-one?

"talk talk talk"
move move move
think think think

WORDS OF COMPASSION ARE STRONGER THAN ANY ACT OF POWER.

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