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A cloud of warmth, white-hot against the perfect transparency of cold, billows out from among the trees and catches old Albrecht’s attention. He’s propped against another of the forests massive trunks, leaning hard and cursing himself for wandering so far from the comforts of the Aurora Basin with its wind breaking peaks and reviving hot springs.
“You there!” He calls blindly to the breaths source, well-mannered and sweet natured as ever. “Buying or selling?” No one ever comes to Helovia’s Threshold with an intent other than to join a herd or to add to one and he doubts that todays new faces will be any different, not that he’s actually seen one yet. Pushing away from the steady support of an old pine and circling toward what he assumes is the strangers front, (based on the direction of the exhalations) he squints into the shadows.
Most of what he can discern is an outline, slightly darker than the shading behind, with bulges of what he can only guess are wings clinging to its sides. Strike one for the Basin, he thinks. There appears to be an odd layering of – more feathers? – sticking up from the strangers poll, but a noticeable lack of any other adornment - Strike two - And as he nears, an olfactory element announces male for all to know. Well shit, he huffs, the air rushing out of his lungs like a torn balloon. More peen, as if the Basin doesn't have enough dick-bags filling out its ranks.
Dropping what little interest he had in recruitment, he stops and stares impassively at the other stallion, one leg tipping up to rest on its toe. He wonders if upsetting the stranger, as is bound to happen, would flare his crest up like the plume of an angry cockatiel. The least he could do is give an old man a good laugh for his troubles.
OOC // @Hellsparkle
“You there!” He calls blindly to the breaths source, well-mannered and sweet natured as ever. “Buying or selling?” No one ever comes to Helovia’s Threshold with an intent other than to join a herd or to add to one and he doubts that todays new faces will be any different, not that he’s actually seen one yet. Pushing away from the steady support of an old pine and circling toward what he assumes is the strangers front, (based on the direction of the exhalations) he squints into the shadows.
Most of what he can discern is an outline, slightly darker than the shading behind, with bulges of what he can only guess are wings clinging to its sides. Strike one for the Basin, he thinks. There appears to be an odd layering of – more feathers? – sticking up from the strangers poll, but a noticeable lack of any other adornment - Strike two - And as he nears, an olfactory element announces male for all to know. Well shit, he huffs, the air rushing out of his lungs like a torn balloon. More peen, as if the Basin doesn't have enough dick-bags filling out its ranks.
Dropping what little interest he had in recruitment, he stops and stares impassively at the other stallion, one leg tipping up to rest on its toe. He wonders if upsetting the stranger, as is bound to happen, would flare his crest up like the plume of an angry cockatiel. The least he could do is give an old man a good laugh for his troubles.
OOC // @Hellsparkle
![[Image: 56c616e54affc]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/56c616e54affc)
