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07-03-2016, 01:19 PM
Just like that, the land got a bit less wild. A bit less lonely. The gray pegasus paused at the arrival of the multi-colored mare. Never had Gry seen anyone with a pelt quite so striking. Her lips can't help but part in an answering warm smile. Helovia. She tucks the name of the land away, filed into her memory for later. It is good to know where she puts her hooves.
Before she can answer, another mare appears. Like the first she is beautiful, draped in gold. Gry wonders if she is royalty, adorned so. Like the first mare she is taller than the stocky fjord, slender-limbed and sleek-coated. She also smiles. Good, apparently the residents of this place are hospitable to strangers. It puts the land she has entered in high regard to Gry. Such hospitality is vital to civilized folk, she thinks.
"I have never been here before," she gives as an answer, her voice rich and low and full of the musical notes of her home tongue. "I am Gry, of Arviksan."
It doesn't matter in her heart that she left, Arviksan is the isle that shaped her. It's cliffs, valleys, and people were her home. She does not know if she will ever go back but it does not mean that she will forget it. So she claims it as her origin, and not even a flicker of sorrow shakes her. She made her choice, and she will not regret where it has taken her. "It is quite a long way from here. Would you tell what you can of your home?"
The question is gentle, curious as her bright amber eyes survey first the dawn-colored unicorn and then Rexanna. Her feathers shift and ruffle with only a whisper of sound as she settles the more closely along her sides. It is easy to mostly ignore the fact that summer shed has made her shaggy coat patchy and her thick, black and white mane and tail are somewhat tangled and matted when she is faced with strangers. Who can tell what stories they might share.
@Persephone @Rexanna
Before she can answer, another mare appears. Like the first she is beautiful, draped in gold. Gry wonders if she is royalty, adorned so. Like the first mare she is taller than the stocky fjord, slender-limbed and sleek-coated. She also smiles. Good, apparently the residents of this place are hospitable to strangers. It puts the land she has entered in high regard to Gry. Such hospitality is vital to civilized folk, she thinks.
"I have never been here before," she gives as an answer, her voice rich and low and full of the musical notes of her home tongue. "I am Gry, of Arviksan."
It doesn't matter in her heart that she left, Arviksan is the isle that shaped her. It's cliffs, valleys, and people were her home. She does not know if she will ever go back but it does not mean that she will forget it. So she claims it as her origin, and not even a flicker of sorrow shakes her. She made her choice, and she will not regret where it has taken her. "It is quite a long way from here. Would you tell what you can of your home?"
The question is gentle, curious as her bright amber eyes survey first the dawn-colored unicorn and then Rexanna. Her feathers shift and ruffle with only a whisper of sound as she settles the more closely along her sides. It is easy to mostly ignore the fact that summer shed has made her shaggy coat patchy and her thick, black and white mane and tail are somewhat tangled and matted when she is faced with strangers. Who can tell what stories they might share.
@Persephone @Rexanna
