G A S P A R D
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The long walk had cleared Gaspard's crown - for a while. Jumping at every sound, ready to pounce on whatever it was that could be lurking and ready to attack, the paranoia of the brute was growing evermore into insanity. The sanest part of him wondered how long it would be before he was overthrown by his nightmares and turned into a creature that even he did not recognise. The alarmingly mammoth yet typical appearence of the hornless, wingless creature was just a shell for the insecurity that lay beneath the surface. As he dragged his daggers across the terra firma that was slowly growing slightly cooler as he made his way into what seemed like one of the deepest parts of this land that was new to him, he took in the scenery. It wasn't so much that he was interested, he was just looking for means of occupying his busy mind.

The alabaster and charcoal brute came to a standstill next to a cave. He turned round with his huge burly neck, letting his mossy orbs scan what he had just covered. His daggers instantly felt slightly sore from realising he had crossed over the vast array of rocks that led him into this part of the lands, and the rest was covered in stunted herbage and frondescence. Gaspard wondered how uninterested he was in such a bland landscape, yet the rock formations caught his attention. They were stunningly in-your-face, a big landmark that he would surely remember. For all the dullness of the lands, he couldn't help but feel a slight comfort from the coolness that it brought. The lands he had passed through to randomly find himself here had been a torturous sun trap, bearing down on his thick fur that made him sweat and irate.

Soon his mind began to dance with the thoughts that weren't understandable. It was like he had been taken over by a different life force, slowly and surely spreading. The light from the sun in the heavens was beginning to show itself, so the alabaster brute decided to grab his feathers and take refuge inside the cave. As he walked in, he smelt a creature. Winged? He was hopeful, he would have been bitterly disappointed if it was not.

The creature that his olive gaze rested upon was an odd creature. Deformed in shape, the twisted legs of a brick coloured brute, that bore indiscrete bleached drippings. The odd growth that covered his left orb wasn't exactly handsome, it covered eyes of a seaform colouring, yet his wings that were also the colour of brick were magnificent. Whatever mishap had occured to this fellow that made him undeniably a twisted and misfortunate creature, he was still captivated by the wings. His strange obsession with wings made him think that any form of wings were better than the powerless form of himself. They were large and very much capable of flight. I want. Gaspard stood there, waiting for the beast to say something that he could reply to, for it was not necessarily easy for the painted brute to begin conversation with other creatures, except himself. The scar along his face began to ache from the water that dripped in a precarious fashion onto it. It had never truly healed, so he was able to derive some discomfort from the wound.

In acknowledgement of the winged creature, Gaspard dipped his large crown and stood in a proud manner, bearing the stature of what he thought was a king.

"What?" our prince barks, his voice breaking across the snow. His right eyes, unblocked by the growth, rolls toward the massive frame standing directly in his way. The painted stallion before him does not say anything, only nods his head. This is extremely irritating to our prince, the fact that he had stopped in his path without bothering to even utter out a weak hello.

Thrusting out a snort, our Enki gives this stallion a run down with his eye. The impressive frame this dolt had waltzed up in was large, much larger than the stunted little growth of a prince he stood before. Irritated, noting that this stallion was looking down on his dirty body, lavished with mud and sticks and other grime that he had accumulated over several months. Higher stature, bulkier body, straighter legs, but this stallion held himself in what felt like a false sense of regality.

Idiot. Our prince is thinking about none other than the painted fool before him, wearing a king's crown and a child's expression of wonder. It takes no time at all four our beloved to make the connection as to what he's looking at. The only unmarred part of our stubby, grimey little stallion's body - his wings. They are, for all intents and purposes, also the only clean part of his body. The soft brown feathers gleam, with only a few small specks of dirt finding their home on their rippled surfaces.

Our deformed prince tilts his head to the side, a mean expression in his small, twisted face. "What the hell do you want, pony boy?" he asks, choppy little words as he looks toward the much larger stallion in front of him. Still, there was something in the uncertainty with which he held his body that made our Enki suspect that underneath that imposing exterior was a timid little creature hiding. Fascinating, even if he was stupid.

G A S P A R D
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Gaspard could sense a hostility from the deformed creature that was barely able to stand in front of him. No pity was felt when this brute had a foul attitude to match the mass. He couldn't think, for a faint voice was beginning to sound at him. He bites. He tried to push this insanity to one side, paranoia taking an icy grip on him. It would not take him yet. He could sense that the brick brute was indeed judging him, but the alabaster beast did not step down from his kingly poise. It was instinct, the stance of a warrior and the scars to prove it. As well as the mind tortured from one legendary fight.

Slowly, he began to piece together a sentence that he hoped would make sense to the stranger. "No harm, winged. Hiding from sun. Name?" It was the best he could do, a foreigner to the lands and the way he had been raised meant different tongues, even it was the same general language. His daggers clunked and thudded against the dark, dank cave whose coolness gave Gaspard some respite from the sun finally. The thick silks were slowly becoming damp from the frequent drips of water from the ceiling of the cave, but it too cooled him slightly. He came to ignore it, it was only his mind that would plague him forever.