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08-12-2012, 07:09 AM
 Ever drifting, seldom stopping, the Ice King drifted through his homeland. Ash still swirled beneath his hooves, clinging to his feathers, but it was masked by a thin layer of white mist. The water droplets attached themselves to his legs like prism pearls, but there was no sunlight to break through them. Instead, they shimmered with the soft silver light of the moon. Mauja stood out like a ghost in the darkness, a wraith moving with ease across the familiar terrain. Across his pupils lay a thin silver shadow, giving the impression of cataracts. Guided by the moon he made his way across the cindery soil, drawn in by the scent of Descaro and a stranger - a mare. It'd be a most welcome addition, and if she was already here, it meant that Descaro had officially approved. While Mauja hadn't spoken much in private with the warrior, d'Artagnan seemed to trust him, and that was enough for Mauja. Day by day he found his own trust in the Moon Doctor growing, and he just hoped it wasn't misplaced. He broke out of the cover of trees, a deep whicker of greeting rumbling in his chest. Descaro, outlined in silver, stood tall and proud as ever, dark bay draped across his Spanish features. The King gave his warrior a nod, and then swept his blue eyes onto the mare. Her height was pleasing to the eye, an average warmblood frame draped in deep black. Her mane and tail were, oddly enough, deep, rich red in color, grayed out slightly by the lack of sunlight. From her forehead sprouted a gnarled silvery-dark horn, shaped like the branch from a tree. "Welcome," said the King, his deep voice warm. "To the Edge. I am Mauja, the resident King." And a small, wry and lopsided little smile curved across his maw, something youthful and mischievous glinting in his eyes. night-fate-stock -- dreamofsandman -- deirdre-T -- deviantart.com // i-mi.deviantart.com |
