Help Is On the Way

the Rift

Help Is On the Way

Lace the Silverthorn Posts: 459

Deceased atk: 5 | def: 9 | dam: 5.5

Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 hh :: 14 HP: 65 | Buff: NOVICE

Fajira :: Plain White Dragon :: Fire Breath Chan

#12

12-30-2012, 07:34 PM

LACE</style>
before the sun sets
GLORY
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Lips twisted, the smile grew deeper and warmer as his task was accepted readily - almost eagerly. It received a hue of contentment, like a cat regarding a fat mouse caught beneath its paw - only, this mouse would eventually be turned into a cat himself, or possibly even rise to one day fly among the dragons.

"Good, very good..." he said, a gleam in the eyes hinting that he was rather looking forward to the task of testing the new recruit. "I will call upon you when I have time to spare; take the other ones first, and I will determine if you are ready by the result of our clash."

Maybe. It all depended on the result of the spars, and upon the future actions of this stallion. So far, however, he had gained the support of the Glazier. As the white-maned stallion nodded that he'd heard the reply to his query the dragon on top of his back stirred, lifting a slender head to regard the black steed through slitted pupils. Whatever thoughts she had on him remained locked behind her chiseled brow - hidden, until the curse muting the bond was lifted and their thoughts became free to mingle once more.

If it would be lifted at all.

Upon reaching the veiled center of their wooden realm, Lace eventually halted and offered the other a nod in the casual way a parting between comrades required. Brief, short - because surely it wouldn't be long until their paths crossed once again.

"For a friend I always have time" he smiled in response to Destrier's words. "Come see me whenever you want; I tend to stay in the glens where creeks run through. Whether it is only for a chat, or if you should require something carved from wood or glass... If you cannot seem to find me, ask Yseulte, my apprentice. She should know.

Welcome to the World's Edge, Destrier. Make yourself at home."

And with that he turned and disappeared quietly into the mist, leaving only faint hoof prints upon the damp moss to tell of his passing.