Wings ached to be spread— he had been in these trees for too damn long. A scowl covered the starkly marked face, glare scraping the dry trunks around him. White ears were pinned in the tangled mass of black mane, dead leaves and sticks caught among the few cream and brown strands. A sharp snort flared out of black nostrils— the only redeeming quality was the comfortably cool weather which sent a cloud around his muzzle. But brisk, annoyed strides carried him straight through the cloud, large hooves crunching the forest litter. Thick head swept to and fro, searching for some kind of thinning of the irritatingly thick trees. Teeth ground, tangled tail flicked, and eyes narrowed; So much for finding the asylum of this ‘Helovia.’


Squelching the urge to kick something (those trees should be good for something, right?), he broke into a ground-shaking jog, tightly tucking his multi-colored feathers to his sides to better navigate the trunks. There! There streaks of sunlight illuminated a small clearing. It was miserably tiny, but it there was still more room there than where he was. Lurching to a lope, heavy hoof-falls pound the earth before flinging up dry earth as he happened upon the opening. A groan of relief growled from his throat, halfway opening the massive wingspan of great feathers. Could this beast even fly? His wings were impressive, but he looked so heavy

Half-flapping the partially spread span, he moved enough air to suggest he could lift his heavy form. Regardless, raptor gaze of red and yellow glare around the gloomy forest, not yet ready to fold his wings again.

G R A A S V O E L

Head jerks up as the sound of breaking branches and disturbed leaves comes from above. Quickly, he snaps his wings to his sides— it would do well to break one of the massive appendages by someone landing on them. And the small clearing wasn’t large enough for himself, his wings, and the pegasus crashing through the canopy.

At first, annoyance flared through him. A warning was warranted when landing so close to another’s wings. Or landing so close to another at all. Though, he supposed, the noisy entrance through the trees should have been warning enough. Still, annoyance and irritability narrowed his red and yellow ringed irises— until he actually saw the smiling creature.

Irritation melted, forgotten in the gold-dusted face framed by ivory tresses. White ears perk forward, a grin crossing his maw as her breathy voice reached him. “I am a newcomer, yes,” the roughness of his voice came from his throat in answer to her question. Raptor gaze watches her in the closeness of their small clearing, regarding the delicate arch of her neck and gold dusting of wings, even the slenderness of her flanks moving from the exertion of flight; the high cheekbones and white pupils were not missed, either. How fortuitous for him that such a lovely mare happened to greet him in Helovia.

He could easily forgive the trees if this is what lived in them.

Almost unwillingly, his white throat and tawny neck stretch upwards, turning his gaze to look at the sky she claimed was not welcoming flight? “It’s not? What a shame,” though the growl of his voice implied that it was not a shame, “Then I guess we’re stuck earthbound, together.” He grinned again as she paused, obvious discomfort radiating for her body.

“Could I have some of your time?” Could she ever. He blinked once, lowering his head to her level, “You can have all my time in the world, love. I am Graasvoel, but call me Gaal,” gaze shifts past her eyes, to the cream tresses that were tangled with leaves and twigs, “And you’ve got something there—” Black muzzle reaches out, lips aiming to dislodge a rather large branch tangled in her cream forelock.

G R A A S V O E L

A loud, bawdy laugh erupts from his throat, nearly shaking the dry leaves in their small clearing, as she hastily claims that she does not need much of his time with the added endearment of ‘dear.’ It is her smug smile that pulls the laugh from him— tuft of a black beard swaying beneath his chin. “Too late, you’ve already got all my time,” his words sounded around the after-shocks of his chuckles. When his barrel stopped moving and his great wings resettled along his sides.

Though his mirth subsides at her smile— this one is different from before. The first was small, a fleeting cover for nervousness. This one was real, genuine, and it alights her gold-dusted face. Though, in spite of her beauty, he notes with irritation that she has called him by his full, given name. A name so oft sounded by the selfish, conniving bitch of a mother.

The smoothing of laugh lines and sideways flick of his ear were the only outward signs of his annoyed and darkening thoughts. “The pleasure’s all mine, Faeanne,” the earlier mirth that had colored his flirtations paled somewhat in the face of his thoughts, an edge beneath his rough voice.

She continues to speak, confirming that this land is, indeed, Helovia. A sigh of relief huffs through his dark nostrils, ringed irises not wavering from her form. Part of her ‘duty,’ eh? The stallion parts of him wondered what else was part of her duty as a mare in this ‘Dragon’s Throat’— but he refrained from voicing such lewd questions.

And when she finished speaking, he feels her white-pupiled eyes sliding across his body. Though the change is slight, he cannot help the easy masculinity that suddenly boasted in his muscles and height. See as turnabout’s fairplay, he allows his own gaze to rake once again over her form, appreciating all that is slender and feminine beneath the dusted coat. Too soon, he feels her gaze search for his, and he is torn from his admiration to meet her eyes. “It is ‘part of your duty’? Try not to sound so thrilled about it, sweetheart,” he stresses the last endearment, a grin crossing his face as he awaited to see what affect this pet name would have on Faeanne.

“Tell me, Fae,” his grin grew slightly as he shortened her name, “Why should I join your ‘Dragon’s Throat’?” His brows raise a bit as he ends in a question.

G R A A S V O E L

Ringed eyes watch Faeanne closely, seeing her gold eyes brighten as he laughed. Well, score one for the vulture, making the pretty lady amused. His grin widened at her sarcastic questions. “What makes you think that I desire so much of your time?” His brows raise slightly, “Do you not? And here I was thinking you wanted to take me home with you.” Humor crosses his face at his suggestive words, continuing to watch the mare closely. Though, at her next, self-conscious questions and accompanying blush. Thick head cocked slightly, beard swaying as he answered her somewhat rhetorical question, “I think you’d have a hard time finding a stud who wouldn’t want to spend time with you Fae. I’m here still, right?” He blinked his raptor eyes once, awaiting answers before—

“You shouldn’t join the Dragon’s Throat.”

Another, flat voice answered his questions in lieu of the gold-dusted Fae. Eyes snapped to the ivory pegasus maiden that just advanced through the the trunks, further crowding the already tiny clearing. Not that the goliath would complain— he was pushed into close quarters with two lovely women. What was there to complain about?

"You smell of the City on the Plains.” A closer inspection of this newly appeared woman revealed flashing eyes and a strange familiarity. The coral-kissed skin, the violent eyes, the proud face— she could be no other than, “Am I meeting the infamous Orithia, massacress of Uumalah?” Something leapt to attention in him, something masochistic and masculine, exciting his favored appendage that hung between his legs. Raptor eyes honed in on the malicious, pale glare of the desert rose.

“Is there a reason I should follow you, daughter of Uumalah’s Seductress, to your ‘World’s Edge’?” Where his voice had been gruff and light with Faeanne, there was not a deeper, darker edge as he questioned the teeth-clenched mare of the Oasis. One could see the shifting of his pupils as he stared at Orithia.

A white ear flicked towards Faeanne as she questioned the wisdom of inviting a man like him to their home. His brows raised, awaiting Orithia’s reply— as he was quite interested to hear it.

G R A A S V O E L