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12-07-2015, 05:59 PM
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Moonlight drowns out all but the brightest stars The word sir feels strange to him, though he had had a lofty perch in his homeland, they had always referred to him as Alune — or simply Arcweaver. Sir made him feel old, as old as the sages within their lofty towers that perched over their ancient tomes and flitted their days away deep in conversation. He allowed his young apprentice to speak her mind, and he let out a breathless chuckle at her words. To muzzle the young was to teach them not to speak their mind, not to question and grow, he would encourage her questions and to follow her instincts. They were the future after all, in the end they would not answer to the elders they answered to now, they would become the elders to the next generation. Alune would not stunt progress for the sake of social beliefs. "Perhaps they came here as I did, young one. With a purpose." The lunar stallion proposed to the pale filly beside him, he would of gone to ask how her legs were faring but decided against it. Erthe was strong willed, and it was obvious, she would not ask him to slow down in his strides, nor stop by the look of things. He would simply slow down and make sure that there was no debris for her to trouble over on the way back on his own accord. He welcomed the fiery coloured pegasus closer, giving him a firm nod. It seemed his size often gave him the prejudgement of a brute, wielding a great bladed crown that could cause great damage should the need arise. However, he was decidedly worlds apart from that judgement. Alune turned his attention back to the mares when the red marked mare spoke, ears swiveled forward to catch their names. "Dagger and Cloak, like the tools my lady's dark rangers use in the night." He mused, and then bowed his head. "Welcome Cloak and Dagger, my lady's blessings to you both." Strange, perhaps, to other inhabitants of Helovia — the way he talked, and the way he treated individuals — but this was what he knew, written on the very bones of his being. Rift's question pulls invisible brows high upon his head, if their had been pupils in his silver orbs he would have seen them glass over with his thoughts. Naery's, he had not heard that name, perhaps he had seen her? He didn't know and so he gives a slow shake of his head. "If I have met her, I didn't catch her name, but perhaps the little lady knows of her?" Head tilted towards Erthe beside him. "Though, if I meet her, I will be sure to send her your regards." Rift's jest was met with a snort of surprise. "Ah, I am not so good with mares." He confessed, a rumbled chuckle escaping his velvet muzzle. He did not envy the choice the mares had to make, he had been fortunate to strike lucky with just one invitation to his promised land. The throat, like it's name suggested, sounded like an arid land of heat, for what better name was the Dragon's Throat for such a place? Maybe he would try and visit sometime, explore and collect their stories and their wizened words of the sands. The sentinel wait's patiently, and is surprised when the mare known as Cloak declined his invitation so quickly. Pale eyes rested upon the mares and he shifted lightly on his hooves. "The trek to the Edge is long, if that is the path you have chosen. I hope you don't mind." |
@Cloak @Dagger @Rift @Erthë
![[Image: QsJIY4g.png]](http://i.imgur.com/QsJIY4g.png)
"I have seen the movement of the sinews of the sky,
And the blood coursing in the veins of the moon."
force & violence permitted on Alune at all times
with the exception of maiming and death
