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It was supposed to be spring. Why was this place still so bloody cold?
Really, Seanan couldn't say what had possesed him to roam North in his ramblings. He knew that North generally equalled cold. He wasn't really fond of cold, so it gathers that he should have gone South. Then again, he did know. What, after all, was more distant from where he'd come from then a place where the snow seemed to cling tenaciously to the Earth and the wind cut through his fine coat with all the keenness of a knife.
The sun's shine picks up the lavender in the stallion's eyes and the mother-of-pearl sheen in his coat, but it gives him no warmth. For a long time he is alone, a white wraith in a frozen wasteland. His thin skin shivers from the aching cold of the wind and he can feel it sinking slowly deeper, into his bones, striking for his heart perhaps.
Spindly pistons pick up speed and with spray of fine powder and have frozen silt he is suddenly free. His long body stretches out, all awkwardness momentarily put aside as the fine engineering of ancestors pasts abruptly shows the true purpose of legs and neck too long for looks, a body lean and light and bony. He can hardly feel the touch of his hooves on the hard ground- more keenly he feels the winds knifing through him, trying to slow him, stop him. His heart is pounding now though, flushing hot desert blood through his veins and fighting off the chill in the air.
The barren steppe, like his desert home, is strangely good at keeping it's secrets. He is almost upon the other horse before he sees the dark horned and bearded figure. The white stallion skews his body sideways, small hooves grappling for traction on abruptly treacherous ground. Still, it is not so treacherous as sand and he stumbles to a halt only a stride or two away from the unicorn, more winded from his near miss than from his run.
Wide eyed and still a little breathless, the pale steed gives a whole body shake not unlike a tremble.
"Sorry," he murmurs, rosey eyes noting first the danger inherent in the other's build, horns, and hooves, well before he begins to notice the tell tale signs of age.
OOC:// @Albrecht I don't know either but I have a little crush on Albrecht and wanted to meet him!
Really, Seanan couldn't say what had possesed him to roam North in his ramblings. He knew that North generally equalled cold. He wasn't really fond of cold, so it gathers that he should have gone South. Then again, he did know. What, after all, was more distant from where he'd come from then a place where the snow seemed to cling tenaciously to the Earth and the wind cut through his fine coat with all the keenness of a knife.
The sun's shine picks up the lavender in the stallion's eyes and the mother-of-pearl sheen in his coat, but it gives him no warmth. For a long time he is alone, a white wraith in a frozen wasteland. His thin skin shivers from the aching cold of the wind and he can feel it sinking slowly deeper, into his bones, striking for his heart perhaps.
Spindly pistons pick up speed and with spray of fine powder and have frozen silt he is suddenly free. His long body stretches out, all awkwardness momentarily put aside as the fine engineering of ancestors pasts abruptly shows the true purpose of legs and neck too long for looks, a body lean and light and bony. He can hardly feel the touch of his hooves on the hard ground- more keenly he feels the winds knifing through him, trying to slow him, stop him. His heart is pounding now though, flushing hot desert blood through his veins and fighting off the chill in the air.
The barren steppe, like his desert home, is strangely good at keeping it's secrets. He is almost upon the other horse before he sees the dark horned and bearded figure. The white stallion skews his body sideways, small hooves grappling for traction on abruptly treacherous ground. Still, it is not so treacherous as sand and he stumbles to a halt only a stride or two away from the unicorn, more winded from his near miss than from his run.
Wide eyed and still a little breathless, the pale steed gives a whole body shake not unlike a tremble.
"Sorry," he murmurs, rosey eyes noting first the danger inherent in the other's build, horns, and hooves, well before he begins to notice the tell tale signs of age.
OOC:// @Albrecht I don't know either but I have a little crush on Albrecht and wanted to meet him!
