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02-18-2016, 11:20 AM
The old man is used to big to-do’s and doesn’t find this little clamor as dizzying or uncomfortable as some of the others seem to. While they poke tentatively forward only to come staggering back from the center of activity with flashbulbs of emotion popping in their eyes he stands detached and quietly calm at the back of the crowd, trying to draw lines of friendship and relation among the roster of moving faces. Most of them offer helpful introductions – names and titles to pin beneath their portraits in his mind – but others don’t, already so familiar among their comrades that no announcements are needed.
A few eyes turn his way, warning, questioning, and welcoming in turn, but he gives no response save the idle flick of his tail across his knobby hocks, dismissive. He has no place among these voices and no desire to make one as of yet. Devoid of an answering reaction, the others attentions turn back to mother and son until a secondary commotion begins with the arrival of the black and white Haruspex he'd seen at the tent painting.
He and his deer-like companions rush onto the scene amid exclamations of surprise and half stifled hurt. The golden mares assertion of, ‘father,’ has a visible impact on the crowd and draws an incredulous furrow across the old stallion’s brow. He watches as the group suddenly thins, wondering if the gilded mother has just pronounced herself a harlot, home-wrecker, or heart-breaker or if the herd has simply been so detached lately that no one knew ahead of time about the Thief and Haruspex - or their indiscretions. Either way he sees no point in lingering where there's nothing else to gain. His study subjects are leaving and so should he.
Nodding a cordial acknowledgement in the direction of the happy family, though he doubts their reverie will pause long enough to take notice, he wanders off to resume his quest of packing on the pounds.
//
OOC: Congrats!
A few eyes turn his way, warning, questioning, and welcoming in turn, but he gives no response save the idle flick of his tail across his knobby hocks, dismissive. He has no place among these voices and no desire to make one as of yet. Devoid of an answering reaction, the others attentions turn back to mother and son until a secondary commotion begins with the arrival of the black and white Haruspex he'd seen at the tent painting.
He and his deer-like companions rush onto the scene amid exclamations of surprise and half stifled hurt. The golden mares assertion of, ‘father,’ has a visible impact on the crowd and draws an incredulous furrow across the old stallion’s brow. He watches as the group suddenly thins, wondering if the gilded mother has just pronounced herself a harlot, home-wrecker, or heart-breaker or if the herd has simply been so detached lately that no one knew ahead of time about the Thief and Haruspex - or their indiscretions. Either way he sees no point in lingering where there's nothing else to gain. His study subjects are leaving and so should he.
Nodding a cordial acknowledgement in the direction of the happy family, though he doubts their reverie will pause long enough to take notice, he wanders off to resume his quest of packing on the pounds.
//
OOC: Congrats!
![[Image: 56c616e54affc]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/56c616e54affc)
