RUN AWAY WITH ME

The Warlander comes to a gradual halt when he hears the fairy man’s question, his eyes lingering for a moment on the surrounding forest before turning to his company. “The leaders,” he says simply, and no sooner does the last symbol slip from his lips, when a familiar voice booms out to them. With dark-rimmed ears pressing forward, Rohan swings his antlered head around to see Tembovu approaching them. The gradual wilt in the Elephant King’s expression does not go unnoticed, but the warrior makes no comment; he would be surprised if the responsibility of king didn’t come with its own heavy burdens, and it is not him to pry.

When the mammoth elephant of a stallion comments on Quentin’s pixie wings, Rohan can’t help the amused smirk that curls his lips. He had a similar reaction himself (albeit, not nearly as coquettish as the king’s), and his green eyes wander momentarily to examine the fluttering wings in question. As he had assumed in the Threshold, it is likely that the pale stallion will receive responses like this for…well, possibly ever. There are many strange and fantastical things in this world of Helovia; people never seem to stop ogling in wonder.

Shifting his weight when the conversation carries on, the Warlander’s attention shifts idly between the other two stallions. Tembovu inquires of the trade that Quentin might be looking to pursue, and the warrior issues his deep voice forth in a smooth continuation of the king’s. “There are many ranks available for you to explore,” he pauses briefly, his crooked smirk deepening when the picture of this manicured, seemingly high-maintenance stallion as a warrior flashes through his mind—but really, who is he to make judgements?

Rohan intends to elaborate on the aforementioned ranks, but he is stolen of the chance when a pale, sapphire-dusted pegasus emerges to join them. He recognizes her almost instantly from the recent herd meeting; their new queen. She introduces herself as such, and the antlered warrior can’t help his appreciative musings. He has yet to know if she will be an equal leader to Tembovu, but she’s certainly excelling for herself in the beauty department. “Queen Elsa,” his thick neck arches in a bow of his head, green eyes glistening when they rise to meet hers, “I don’t believe we’ve officially met; my name is Rohan.” He casts a glance to Quentin, assuming that the pixie male would like to introduce himself.


“Speech.”