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07-02-2014, 03:54 PM
Standing about the permafrost ground the golden nipped at the abundant tundra grass field. In fact the golden was surprised at how many things were abundant here. Boredom. Herd Regulations. Meetings. Safety. Yep, life in a herd was fucking fantastic. In seeking consolation the golden, Thranduil, assured himself the time would come, once he had proven valuable that he could twist the knife into their backs. It was only a small consolation though, the gold boy sighed as he stepped for new ground. Still, he could not have picked a more wonderful place. The swan which sought to block his entry had shown her weakness in the herd meeting, a terribly independently minded daughter. Yes, helping that child…find herself would be quiet a delightful venture. There was also the curious addition of a winged girl to the herd, walking about and most peculiarly around his lady’s son’s side. Soul hardened in its delight. His lady was not to be trifle with, yet.
So in total the twin horned was looking for…a curiosity. Some entertainment if you will. His lady was still wrapped up in the aftermath of her announcement of festival, so there was not yet time to find a moment with her. It was also too soon to be needling into the sub consciences of his herd members. Time was still needed to gain his security. The golden boy had half hoped to actually meet someone here on this slopped meadow that led down to the lake. Raising that Spanish head the golden boy looked lazily about him. No one was even in the meadow at this time. Did these unicorns thrive of the frozen rocks so much they did not know a pleasant day? The weather was wasting its effort to bring the tiniest hint of warmer weather all the way up here in the mountains. None but the golden seemed to notice. Chewing with the laziness of being half asleep, with hind halfcocked, the golden did not know he was about to get his wish.
The ground shook first. With a snort the golden son came to attention. Hark picked up and spun about, and lips begin to curl. Finally. Curving about to face the lake below the golden easily spied the draft making his way back into the herd lands. Though the creature’s appearance was a little…unsettling. A little bit of blood never hurt anyone’s figure, but this white draft was painted with and sported a mane and tail of blood red to match. It was clear what his profession is, though the recent gore adorning his coat appeared not to be his own. Whatever had happened beyond the mountains, it had been quiet a one-sided struggle. Curiosity peaked the golden boy could not help but jog down to the waterline.
The copper, bitter scent washed over him on the breeze as the twin horned grew nearer. Coming closer he recognized the beast as one from the herd meeting, but now coming closer to him (and coming up alone) the golden slowed to a walk. This brute was BIG. Not many towered over Thranduil but his behemoth did. Coming along the lake side the golden let out a low greeting, though his hark turned back in apprehension. Best tread carefully with this one, for there is no beating him in a brawl. What do we do in front of a mountain we can’t hope to climb in victory? We smile. Walk around it. And claim the same pride as the climber.
Coming to a small halt a few yards away the golden let the easy smile grace about him. He hid his own tension at the thought of mentally tackling this brute by citing the fellow was of the Basin. The thought did little to ease him. He hoped the creature would be like the one he had met outside the Rotunda, Gaucho, a brute to be sure, but also a little slow with words. Nodding the twin horned head in greeting the golden then noticed the blue feather. That feather came not from a bird. Thranduil had little experience with pegasi, and none of them exactly pleasant, but he knew their feathers when he saw one. Judging by the blood on the cream coat before him the victim was missing a tinge more than a feather. He was supposed to be on the draft’s side though, remember? Letting the grin slip a bit Thranduil questioned “I hope the other does not bear your blood on their coat as well.” Then he smiled back, “I see you have the prize though, so you must be the victor?” Nodding to that poor blue feather gripped tight in the oaf’s jaws. If he was like any typical winner that was all the brute would need to spill the story. Blood and guts did not suit the golden palate, but information did.
Oh but manners, manners. There was more to this creature than who’s blood he wore. “I do not believe we’ve met, Thranduil, at your service.” The grin returned, it always did.
OOC :: How the heck did it get this long!? Lol Anyways, so excited to see how these two do.
"speech"
Oh dear. Oh me.
What is this I see?
What is this I see?
![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
Feel free to use any force/magic on Thranduil, short of killing him.
Please tag in every post.
Ask Thranduil any question in the world, he'll be forced to answer on his profile. PM with your question.
