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Abraham Like his father before him, Abraham had encountered this large turtle before. While he may not be the most festive creature by nature, Abraham and his dragons were still drawn to the familiar gathering like the others were. In a strong trot, the leviathan stallion made his way toward those that stood in awe of the tree and in awe of the magic surrounding them. The black and white behemoth had nothing to compare Helovia to, but he knew from the stories his mother told him and his wombmate as colts that other lands were not as inherently magical as the land they were born into. For at least this, Abraham had some appreciation for the earth he stood upon.
Wardragons flitted above him, the sun glittering and glistening off beautiful scales. The pair trilled calmly, their sharp eyes seeking out others of their kind. Not now. Abraham commanded, and with a dual hiss the pair dropped from the sky and onto his broad back. Take this. Abraham nodded his head toward the charm hanging from his shoulder armor. Gwyneverre grabbed the charm and flew away from the stallion, her golden sister staying perched as a sentinel on his withers. The white circled the tree before hanging the acorn charm on a middle branch. Trilling pleasantly, the white returned to her master.
The trio stopped on the crest of a hill, the wind pulling tendrils of Abraham's thick mane. Mismatched eyes scanned those below him, resting on his father for a moment before continuing to scan.
[Abraham offers his branch charm!] |
Holy water cannot help you now
Thousand armies couldn't keep me out
I don't want your money
I don't want your crown
See I've come to burn your kingdom down
