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07-11-2017, 08:38 AM
The birds, they got help from below From dirty paws and the creatures of snow
Watching his son discover this magic for the first time, the stallion feels a contentment within him that is not often present. The salty wind gently tangles by them, and the boy himself is small and perfect amidst the serenity of the beach, and its gently lapping waves. Dragomir is about to steal another glimpse of his bride and daughter when Gabriel’s voice reaches forth, enthusiasm netted into the notes. Metal, he says, nodding. Smiling with lifted ears, the stallion takes steps towards the rock pile, hoping his son will come along after, so that they can sort through the stones. Though his pouches are quite full with metal laden rocks, Dragomir would like to share his knowledge with his boy, now that he has one to share it with. His father had tried to do the same with his tricolored son, of course, but the Steadfast had soon discovered that his son was not much of a warrior. Dragomir was his mother’s son, which, of course, was not always a bad thing; Dragomir was inquisitive, kind, and brave. It had meant, however, that the relationship between he and Adalwulf had probably not been one that filled his sire with as much joy as the one Dragomir shared with Gabriel, now. There had been joy, of course, but joy spread among many long, tired sighs, and restless nights wondering what would become of his son. Gabriel was to make things; Dragomir knew this in his bones, though he didn’t know how or why. He, of course, also wondered if all men felt this way about their children, imposing their dreams upon them, but each lesson involving crafting with his young children had drawn a wealth of their interest, and they had talent already, even being young as they were. Arriving at the pile of rocks and looking back at Gabriel with a grin, Dragomir jostles loose a few he knows to hold metal, and what kind. This reddish one here has iron in it, he explains, while this strange, spongy-looking blackish one is copper. And this one… It’s a volcanic rock, but the stallion has a suspicion about it, mostly because it’s so round, in shape. Lifting his large hoof and slamming it down with a powerful swing, the stone splits open, revealing shining bands of silver. Is from a volcano, but fire and earth makes all sorts of things, he explains, this metal is called silver. |
Any violence/magic is allowed to be used upon Dragomir at anytime, permitting it doesn't kill or seriously maim him without my permission <3
