The young python doesn’t know the word for ‘filly.’ He doesn’t know the word for ‘child,’ or ‘stranger,’ either, because he rarely bothers paying any attention to details like language when he can just go straight to the source of the ideas themselves, more often exchanging a silent series of images and emotions with his bonded than a logical progression of verse. It works well enough when the old black is awake, but
now, with his mouthpiece laid out flat in the green of the Secret Grove, there’s no one to interpret the snakes flow of consciousness into a meaningful phrase and no one to receive it either.
He prods at the stallions mind, trying to interject an image of the brown and white equine casually approaching across the quiet of their bond, but the elder barely stirs, his body adamantly refusing to be pulled from this rare moment of peace, even for his companion, but the pool at the Groves center draws the filly unknowingly closer, her proximity an increasing worry to the snake until his desperation makes him resort to physically poking the old stallions ears, ticking and pulling at the thick hair that grows inside them until his bondeds salt and pepper brows furrow and his bearded head shakes, forcing him awake.
"Whuh ye wan?” He slurs unhappily, rolling onto his sternum with a groan and blinking a crusty residue from his eyes. He catches sight of the filly then, his ears flicking forward with a surprised,
“Oh.” Still battling for full consciousness, he stares up at the girl, wondering what made her
so important that he needed to be deprived of further rest.
"Talk."
OOC //
@Vezér
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
![[Image: 56c616e54affc]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/56c616e54affc)
