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Grimalkin
His company was beautiful, to be sure: Tiva, with her earthly tones, her gentle speckles, her curved and sharpened horns; and Elsa, the icy queen, the warrior princess, the pegasus who walked with them. Grimalkin happily followed them, learning the way from the Threshold to the Edge, storing the information within his mind - for who knew when it would be useful to him? He doesn't hide his keen emerald gaze as it focusses on the mares, though he does guard it more whenever he happens a glance at the Queen - he didn't want to step on anyone's toes, cause offence or tension, especially after declaring himself a member of the north - not necessarily the Basin, though he did wonder what conclusions the mares jumped to with his words.
He was surprised to be invited past the ruined wall, and completely within the lands, surprised to be allowed to learn all the intricacies of the herd that Else spoke about so easily - he hadn't even given them his name, only a hint to the place he called home (and even that wasn't entirely the truth). If lying got him this quality of results, why should he ever need to tell the truth?
He nodded along as he heard the information, his façade friendly, his ears perked forward and his eyes bright. "I'm Grimalkin, by the way," he relented against his own deviousness, something like a conscience rising up within him. Perhaps he said it now as a subtle way of pointing out that they had neglected to ask it of him sooner, perhaps he wished to demonstrate the ease with which he had slipped past the borders, a perfect stranger, (a liar), and learned what could be critical information about the herd - they were clearly in need of members, on all fronts. Their wall was weak, if non-existent, Elsa's cry for more crafters was an obvious admission of their lack of environmental defences. Though that did not necessarily mean they were completely exposed - perhaps their army was so powerful, they were confident enough in their warriors to defend them, (but then why was Elsa so desperate for crafters?).
"It is a beautiful land," he mused quietly, letting his gaze roam to the misty forest that surrounded them, twirling his ears at the distant echo of waves crashing against the cliff face that must surround the realm and give it its name.
@Tiva
@Elsa
He was surprised to be invited past the ruined wall, and completely within the lands, surprised to be allowed to learn all the intricacies of the herd that Else spoke about so easily - he hadn't even given them his name, only a hint to the place he called home (and even that wasn't entirely the truth). If lying got him this quality of results, why should he ever need to tell the truth?
He nodded along as he heard the information, his façade friendly, his ears perked forward and his eyes bright. "I'm Grimalkin, by the way," he relented against his own deviousness, something like a conscience rising up within him. Perhaps he said it now as a subtle way of pointing out that they had neglected to ask it of him sooner, perhaps he wished to demonstrate the ease with which he had slipped past the borders, a perfect stranger, (a liar), and learned what could be critical information about the herd - they were clearly in need of members, on all fronts. Their wall was weak, if non-existent, Elsa's cry for more crafters was an obvious admission of their lack of environmental defences. Though that did not necessarily mean they were completely exposed - perhaps their army was so powerful, they were confident enough in their warriors to defend them, (but then why was Elsa so desperate for crafters?).
"It is a beautiful land," he mused quietly, letting his gaze roam to the misty forest that surrounded them, twirling his ears at the distant echo of waves crashing against the cliff face that must surround the realm and give it its name.
@Tiva
@Elsa
please do not feel pressured into mirroring the length of any of my posts
I write what I feel at the time
and hope everyone else does the same c:
