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@[Bucephalus]
 The bird is watching as he always doe while his mare quietly pokes around below, looking for nutrition wherever she can manage to discover it. Phrixus keeps his blue eyes to the dark sky, the silver light gleaming against their frozen color. He watches a peculiar glow and glide and come back again, getting closer and clearer and taking on more shape as it swoops. It is a pegasus, he confirms this with himself and decides its worthy of his attention. And hers too... When she hears the bird shifting on his branch, flapping and briefly squawking, she knows that something is out there. Or someone... Again Phrixus calls out, by now the winged stranger has slipped into her vision. She expectantly grins that half-innocent sort of grin and steps toward him while he approaches. His approach isn't unlike most with wings, gracefully he floats down and grabs firmly at the snowy moss floor with his hooves. He wastes not a minute with staring but instead comments on the night and introduces himself, her smile deepens before she presses her lips around a gentle wind-chime voice. It is a strong, medium volume sort of voice, assertive and warm. “Why hello, Bucephalus, ” She squeezes the large gap of space between them with a few long steps toward him, a few comfortable feet still remain as she continues, her eyes fixated unto his. “My name is Tangere...” Phrixus joins them, swooping onto the mare's fluffed withers. “And this is Phrixus.” The bird's bright eyes peer at him with vague disinterest, blinking once or twice and turning away to some commotion beyond the chatting pair. “Don't mind him, he's a grump.” Phrixus gives her the same disinterested look, unfurling his wings and taking flight up and away into a tall pine. The moonlight catches the white raven perfectly in his hollow of pine needles and contorted branches, for a stolen second his mare is lost in a memory but shortly she returns her focus back to Bucephalus. Her chocolate eyes find him but they do not stay with his gaze; instead to move across his gold speckled body, over his massive wings and down his black legs. After she's done she meets her stare with his own, mixing them together like hot and cold air; it feels as though they smack together. She shivers, but maintains that same childish grin. “Where are you from, Bucephalus?” She knows the answer but she lets him tell her anyways. Thoughts of the Basin flood back...perhaps they deserve a visit soon. Her thoughts wander, but her attention remains with him as he answers. AND THE DOVE OF HOPE BEGINS ITS DOWNWARD SLOPE... |
- You may use violence and magic against her at will, but no death.
- Please tag me so I don't forget anyone(:
