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06-19-2013, 05:55 PM
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S K E L L S A rather brisk zephyr revelled against the frosty earth, intertwined with the occasional silver snowflake. Africa was correct indeed; Frostfall had laid its cold hand across the land with bitter hast. Alas, the pallid female allowed her muzzle to proceed closer to his, manifested roots clenched between her ivories, and Skells greeted the nutrition with a gratified nicker. He enjoyed his gelid companion, and with some sense of rapture, he snorted leerishly before pressing his steaming nose into her flank, perhaps a sign of affection. When she asked him of his origin, the male snapped his attention back to the front half of her body, and another bashful chortle arose from his barrel. "I come from lands of great temperatures," he started, using his metallic gaze to intrigue her. "Where the wind is hot, and sands blur your vision. It is from this of which I seek a newer, more becoming land." The dark brute shifted on his hooves, the frosty current thwapping playfully with his mane. His figure was elusive, now, as his somber hide clashed recklessly with the white wash of winter. Africa's image, however, seemed to compliment the bleakness of the season, and perhaps cheered it to a more fulgent landscape. With great wings folded against his heaving barrel, the male did not intend on consulting the grim matters of his origin, so he used his wide skull to nod towards his welcoming company. "Helovia," he said through leathery lips, testing the word out as she had done. "I've never encountered that compass."
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