Quentin

He was late. Heavens above he'd get shit on for this.

Quentin snorted as he leaped over the broken glass of the wall, fairy wings fluttering to give him a bit of height in his action. He'd been too busy flirting it up, taking names and breaking hearts. Well...not really. But he had met a few new equines here and there, which had been fun. He'd been meandering home to the Edge when something told him to get his ass into gear and get going quick. Of course, being the sassy thing that he was, Quentin hadn't done that in the slightest.

It was only when the booming voice of his leader reached the ears of passerbys and he heard word of a meeting to happen that the brute realized just how screwed (and not in a good way) he was. “Way to go flutterby. Just found yourself a home and you're gonna ruin it.” Pinning his ears at the voices in his head, the male galloped on towards the cliffs, the scents of equines leading him in the direction he was hoping everyone was.

Flying was out of the question, his wings were able to carry him, yes, but they wouldn't flap fast enough or last long enough to get him where he needed to go without falling off or giving out. The latter was more likely, but Quentin wasn't going to chance either happening. His tan hooves thundered on the earth, nostrils flaring, hazel eyes filled with annoyance at himself.

Spotting the herd in the distance, he slowed to a reaching trot, wings fluttering in distress. He'd made it, but not in time. He was the last to arrive and that obviously meant he was late. Late late late. Hiding behind the back of the herd, he peaked around the beings he had no idea who they were, looking at the front line. He spotted Tembovu and Elsa (that lucky little ice witch), standing together. Rohan, that sexy beast, was also at the front of the herd, answering their leader's call in a timely manner. That was the extent of his herd knowledge. “Shocker.” Grunting to himself, the pale Warmblood tried to make himself as small as possible (which was hard) and not stand out (which was even harder).

“Face it, you're gonna get your fancy ass handed to you.” Rolling his eyes, Quentin slunked around to the outside of the herd closest to the king and queen. Keeping his eyes down and his wings sagged, Quentin hoped he looked pitiful enough to be forgiven. “Not likely.” True, but he could hope couldn't he?

"Talking"
"Voices in my head"

OOC- I know I'm late -.- I'll take whatever punishment haha. I haven't been having a good week/month/year so far.

I Can Grant Your Wishes, Baby....