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ULRIK
"I hate the cold." Ulrik felt the presence of his knitting brother approach his side. The word still left a bad taste in his mouth, and he was half-convinced that d'Artagnan still deserved that woven noose. Farenjer wasn't as insulted by d'Art's words, he hoped, as the silent stallion could use a little self-confidence. At least, that was what Ulrik thought. He watched as his equal tilted his ears forward at the mare and the Engineer calmed from his guard dog mentality. The question the mare asked was straight forward enough, and at the very least, they could show her a good time. Right? Maybe that could gain an ally on the outside, or even a convert? Ulrik's expression twisted up into a smile, which was probably the most creepy expression he could possibly make. Ulrik didn't wear smiles very well. He looked insane. Certifiable. Lock him up, please. Fortunately, the smile faded, and he stepped back, leaving a path open into the Basin a little more. "Well, we do have a few projects in the works, perhaps my comrade, Farenjer, and I could demonstrate?" he suggested, his voice turning from harsh gravel to semi-fine rock. Ulrik walked slightly more toward the unfreezing lack, turning to Farenjer. The snow crunched under his cloven hooves, hoping that his equal and the foreign mare would follow. "A tent, perhaps? For our meetings?" he suggested. The tent would be able to house all of them, hopefully, and protect them from the elements during important discussions. Could he quest for a god to have it sound proofed? Now that would be a good idea... |
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