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A cool fall wing blew through Helovia and sent shivers down a brown stripped man. The golden son was a dance. His lean legs stretching out from under him in a dazzle of grace. Spanish head tucked and rolled back and forth as his body sizzled with the electricity. He was not a blaze of anger or death, but the opposite, sailing across the rocky ground in a spectacle of prime and power. A rest upon the floating isle had done him well, and now the golden son would return to this Loorien. Bless all who come across his path, for he was the master of this world. True no mighty powers did he weld, but he held something greater. He was the master of your mind, standing at the controls. The golden son was alive and well.
Nares clawed at the air to keep his craving lungs filled at this striding pace. It was by chance they caught the scent at all. Granite. Pine. Ash. Harks lean back and the strides slow. Golden sides heaving he searches again, but the same scents return to him. This creature most certainly was of the Basin, but Ash? Then a curious memory comes forth. There was one he knew. Head pulls forward and the golden body follows, tassled tail, curled, flicks behind him.
Sure enough walking across the land bridge the girl is here. The gold in those earth eyes flash with a brilliance. He had wanted to talk to this child. She too much of a curiosity to not investigate. Keeping his pace, letting his muscles roll with fluidity their earlier strain allowed he comes up to behind her. Here in the open his approach could not be a secret, but he stays as silent as he can anyway. Slowing to a walk he crosses at last within several paces of the little one. A smile raises on his lips as he speaks low, over the waves crashing on the edge. “Hello there little fire bird, you’re a long way from your mother’s nest.” It was not said with much twist, though it was hard to keep it all hidden. Stopping finally he lets a small pleasant smile rise, and looks upon the child of fire. It would be hard soon for his lady to keep legitimating the girl’s presence in the Basin, but the golden son was all the happier for it. Who would not love a little spice to their dull unicorn land. Even crazy gets boring some days. Still, as he looks down upon her it was not with a wicked thought towards the fire bird, but if she could be persuaded…the day might just have a happy ending. Well, for the golden son at least.
OOC ::
"speech"
Mix a flutter of feather,
A pinch of iron horn,
Little fire bringer,
You just need to learn of thorns.
A pinch of iron horn,
Little fire bringer,
You just need to learn of thorns.
![[Image: 5381546acbe33]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/5381546acbe33)
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