| World's Edge Glazier atk: 6 | def: 9 | dam: 5 |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 17" :: 7 HP: 64.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Bunnie |
D R A G O M I R
just pretend that you want me & be my baby, be my baby
If he only knew the power that came down the bauble strewn path, he might have grown anxious in waiting, the black mare that revealed herself upon the trail simply creating sensations of admiration in the young stallion. She was beautiful and proud, the delicate arch of her neck speaking volumes of her self-worth, and Dragomir found himself relating her posture to that of his mother, a woman who had once been queen of her people. He ran his pale blue gaze across the ebony pelt of the stranger, wondering if she too was a leader among the residents of Helovia, just as the stunning gold dragon alighted upon her shoulders. The chirp issued from her dangerous maw was friendly and musical, the stallion's ears perking up at the noise and a smile finding a place upon his face despite himself. His mother's Israfel was large, a bronze beast with scales that seemed to burn as he moved in the sun, and his father's green was large for her variety, but this golden drake was by far the larger of the bonded dragons he had ever encountered, and also spectacularly beautiful. The pair made quite a fitting duo, he mused, the ebony minx's pelt in stark contrast to the glimmering yellow hues of her eyes and the vibrant scales of her bonded, and he was glad to find that he already felt comfortable in this one's presence, unlike he had with his encounters with the vagrant pegasi or the various other equinites he had happened upon in his travels. While it very well may have simply been the presence of the dragon, the quiet strength with which she carried herself resonated deeply within the tri-hued horse, having been raised by parents who were both of a stoic nature and, by course of nature, gave birth to a son who was also rather aloof in his mannerisms. It was possible that he was even more isolated within himself than either of his folks, however, as he had never been made to deal with a standard herd situation, something that made him itch with anticipation but also drew worries to the surface, many involving his abilities to function in a large group but also general concerns within the young male as to whether or not he even had anything to offer them.
The head of the charcoal hued mare bobbed in neat unison with the song of her dragon, speaking volumes of the strength of the bond between a horse and her drake, and for maybe the thousandth time in Dragomir's two years of life he felt the thrill of the unknown but desperately desired burn through him. He remembered the first instance of the strength of the bond he had experienced in his life, when Israfel had caught the scent of a stranger on the borders of the Isle, some ten to twenty miles away from where his mother and father had been teaching him old lore of their people, and how enraptured he had been to witness the connection at play as the thoughts instantaneously traveled between the bronze dragon and his mother, that the pair could share images and emotions across vast distances as easily as he could speak. His blue eyes met those of the dragon draped upon the black mare's back with a glimmer of respect, knowing that it was liable the wyvern had first spotted him here beneath his tree. From what he had learned of the scaled beasts in his youth, they were always eager to please, even the wild dragons that prowled the jungle-like forests of their island (though not so much as the bonded pair of his parents), and always seemed to be full of a bright energy even when they were poised perfectly still. It was pleasant, he realized as he looked upon the pair, to encounter others so similar to his family, and while it was a dubious prospect that this mare had known any of his kin, she reminded him of those he had left behind so deeply that it brought melancholy up to the surface of Dragomir's stirring collection of emotions, and not for the first or last time, he wondered how his parents fared back upon their Isle.
He returned her polite nod of the head with a bit more flourish after her greeting than she had given with her own minute bow, his light tan muzzle sweeping down to brush the soft velveteen end upon his chest, his thick mane sweeping forwards in the motion before spraying back as his head rose once more. It was simply within his nature to be overly courteous to females, his chivalry much deeper than many who wandered the face of the earth, and while his kindness towards the gentler chromosomal set had never been tested by the boundaries of bloodline, he found that he was quite good at being polite to equine mares, elders, and children. In this particular case, not only was this stranger a woman as well as his elder, but she seemed to be of great importance due to the carriage of her well built frame as well as the color of her bonded, Dragomir knowing enough of dragon lore to understand that the gold was considered the most elite of the wyvern breeds, and so in pairing with his soft heart for the softly curved ladies, respect had found its way into his carriage about her. Even if she had done nothing more to earn it other than arriving upon this path with a golden dragon, Dragomir felt that was ample reason enough to watch his actions about her. "Thank you, m'lady," he said, his voice deep and rich like the darkest bands of wood upon an ancient and well lacquered chest, a voice that he was aware was rather robust for a fledgling stallion, but that was also beautiful and almost morose in it's tones, no matter the mood of the painted stag. So the pegasi did not lie to me, he mused, wondering if it had been dark here when they had left or if it was a new occurrence, but remaining silent on such matters for the time being; it made little sense to instill fear of your new abode within moments of arriving, the stag desiring more reasons to stay than leave at this particular moment, weary of travel and also anxious to begin his new life. He felt mildly uncomfortable now that he had spoken, however, not sure if it was enough but not really desiring to say more, either. His pale gaze searched the older and rather pretty mask of the black mare, the stallion feeling desperately overwhelmed by his underwhelming social skills, one ear falling back into a tilt as he decided upon a final quip to add in. "I am Dragomir, son of Adalwulf and Requiem."
 |
|
Wishlist | Table Tracker
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
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
