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06-02-2017, 09:31 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-02-2017, 09:36 PM by Thranduil.
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It may have been all pleasantries and ‘adult talk’ but it was very valuable. This was not the dull interactions to usually be found here. Helovia might not have burned down, there was a hint of smoke in the air. The gold, quietly letting the conversations flow does rumble in humor at Hotaru’s exclamation. He’d felt the same. Yet what Rikyn offered in consonance, was more wounding instead. Perhaps the gold did not feel connected to those gone, but there were faces he wouldn’t mind seeing again. Especially some from the North. As the trail of lines roll on he smiles when he should and listens otherwise. The news of the world is of great interest. He knew The last of the news was not so much of a shock (besides the news of the engineer), but it did bring sadness. “I was there the day he fell.” Came the slip of breath, and the gold’s ears fall back slightly. He has mask enough to hold a gaze, but within he wishes to drop it in respect for the old Lord of the North. Deimos had been a constant, and dependable lasting creature, something the gold rarely had (and dare he say, needed?). That Rikyn had also lost his father was news, but the gold had never been as close to the engineer. He was always tinkering with his machines, and so far from the golden’s….mindset. Though it had stung, the words rang all the more truth into the thought that Hotaru and he were some of the last left of that generation. The final news was at least a wakeup call from the depression the thought of funerals tends to bring. A wide Cheshire grin rolls back up the gold’s lips. He noted the grin on the stallion’s lips and doubted to himself how ‘reluctant’ he really was. Had he not said that even without his lineage Rikyn would never be able to just, blend in? His mother’s crown may not fit him, but he would have made his own anyway. Of course given this nature he was unsure if the stallion had the same…spunk which the gold had originally thought would get him there, but he doubted it could have all washed away. Rikyn may be young, but the gold was hardly worried he’d be any less of a Lord than the Basin demanded. So all the Puppeteer gains is a swagger of a grin, and a short comment. “Told you you’d make a pathetic Mr. Nobody. Brat King has a much better ring to it.” Thranduil rarely missed a ‘told you so’ but the nod of approval was not to be missed either. A thought drifts into his mind…and he toys with it, finally, and as subtly as possible, inhaling, letting the gears within him click and finally lock in. Kiada speaks up to the dark stallion, and the gold switches conversations, instead letting his ears turn back towards Rexanna. He finds her running through her news as well, and listens with the same patience. It was good he’d only had boring tales in the wild so that he was still riveted by such basics as herd positions. The name Raeden rings a bell though, and he wonders how the challenger, Toulouse?, faired. That had been a rather fun day as well. Then she mentions living in the Edge, and the gold’s breath hitched. The prior thoughts try to worm their way back into his mind. He glances to Rikyn. Though he enjoyed the youth, living under him, or even temporarily calling it home felt…impossible. Laughing at your superiors, or making them want to strangle you was really not the best way to make Thief of the week, or even maintain your visitation rights. The earth eyes look down to the rosen Valkyrie at his side, her neck still slightly damp from their efforts to simply walk. His teeth ground, but he whispers softly. “Perhaps? A Basin winter is harsh.” And you’ve grown so fragile Even if they did have healthy foals, the winter would be a strain. “And its not that far.”Without a mountain to climb to get there. He frets for a moment, could she even make it to the Basin if she wanted? He’s growing moody again, and once more can not stand it, so throws off his momentary lapse with something more golden. “Plus, plenty of lovely villagers…” His wolfish grin goads her, and he nudges her gently, teasingly again in Rexanna’s direction. “No offence Puppeteer….” The gold flips to RIkyn, and though it’s a harsh line, his tone is decidedly different from one you’d might expect. His earth eyes dip slightly, and it does not have the full polish of off handedness. If you read it closely you might even think he was sincere. Then as usual he covers his tracks. ”Hell frozen over is lovely any time of year.” Supposedly the golden would know. "talk talk talk" OOC:: Thranduil
His words are clever and bright
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@Hotaru
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