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12-24-2016, 11:23 PM
Frostfall is unusual rough on the Seer, he's not quite sure why. His bones ached in the cold and his coat has never quite been able to grow in as lush and thick as some, often he's reasoned it's due to his mothers blood. Some patches grow lushious and thick, while others are sparse and patchy. His hair is pulled up and styled into a loose bun, and his tail is thicky braided to the lone whip like appendage to keep it from becoming matted within the snow and sludge. However, he would be foolish not to partake in traditions, one that he'd been lucky enough to enjoy when he'd first travelled to Helovia all those seasons ago. His patchy coat is hidden beneath one of the blankets which had been procured from the Basin, borrowed with a stern promise he would bring it back once he was back at the home he'd carved out for himself. Back to the fire which crackled brightly after many funny and frustrating attempts to get it lit. There's much to do, and so little time he mused. The Seer longed for spring and summer, where his steps aren't hindered by the nipping wind and cold white beneath his lapis hooves. He lingered on the Edge of the gathered, pinkish purple nares inhaled and exhaled a plume of heated breath into the chilled air. Moon coloured eyes watched with warmth and mirth at the plethora of foals and excited adults alike chirped their appreciation and love of their new gifts. He was late for that it appeared, but he did not mind so much. It was a season for giving, merry making and gentle words ushered with love and devotion. It's a time where the Seer shifted on his hindquarters and thought of home. The pale halls and plush banners and pillows were a welcome thought, but it's the soothing voice of the Goddess and his friends which earned his nostalgia more. The quick wit of the timeless one, the infectious laughter of the fireforged, the gentle charm of the verdantkeeper and the stories spared by the tide mistress. He wondered if they missed him, and missed each other if they had not already returned to their homeland. The arcweaver let out a quiet sigh, and a smile appeared on his starry face. Let it not dampen his spirits, he mused to himself, and once more he focused on those around him. "talk talk talk" The Arcweaver's Circle
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![[Image: QsJIY4g.png]](http://i.imgur.com/QsJIY4g.png)
"I have seen the movement of the sinews of the sky,
And the blood coursing in the veins of the moon."
force & violence permitted on Alune at all times
with the exception of maiming and death
