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01-15-2015, 01:34 PM
Helovia, new and foreign to Bolverik, was still a lifeline. Fresh start, though his heart still ached for the passing of home. Did the fires still burn? Were the corpses of his family rotting away beneath the icy surface or preserved in winter's bitter embrace? Were there more survivors? Ulrik and Torleik had found their way here, leaving a rather significant chance that more of his herd wandered without purpose, without a leader. He had represented that word well, once. Now it burned with his family and his heart, but such emotions would never move from his cautious lips. Failures were swiftly swept beneath the rug of lies, hidden in plain sight.
Yet he stood upon the Threshold of this land, having abandoned his new home to the north for but a few more days. Golden, churning eyes scanned the dense trees, hoping, praying that another bedraggled kin would wind their way up here - just like he did. Alas, his wait was in vain. No thickly bearded unicorns of rural country appeared in the trees, and he ate slowly on the rich grasses, one ear tilted and ever watchful. Ah, but more than his kin appeared in the thicket, and he lifted his proud, arching neck as a behemoth shook the ground beneath - sniff - her hooves.
The warmth of spring had enveloped this land, and his stint in the Basin allowed him a bath in the hotsprings. Restored to his former glory, the gilded beast strode confidently, despite the significant height difference. Though not small, he was slight in comparison, his muscles defining the rippling of his masculine skin without significant bulk. Golden, cloven hooves rested on the softened ground, nearly matching the two, large horns protruding from his handsome brow. The stallion curled his lion's tail, clicking golden rings which circled the minx bone.
Ah but she was moving. How long before her notice fell upon this silver-tongued dragon? Bolverik made a sweeping bow with his body, manners and decadent gestures punctuating his former stature. "Greetings," he rumbled, deep and charismatic tones billowing from a strong barrel. "And welcome to Helovia, my dear lady." Perhaps his politeness could be confused with flattery, but that was not intended. For this woman did not possess horns upon her brow and that was distinctly unfortunate.
I'm aching for you
But you're bound to bleed if I adore you
please tag me in all posts
But you're bound to bleed if I adore you
please tag me in all posts
