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07-30-2013, 08:51 PM
There was no doubt in his mind that things were changing. The flow of time was inevitable, and one could do little to stop it... Much was the same with change. You could hate it, embrace it, do everything you can to ignore it, but change does happen. That was a lesson that Apollo had learned early on in his life, and one that he had learned yet again just recently, with the departure of Ophelia from the Grey. It's still so hard to think that she's gone... The stallion thought to himself, his breath exhaling out in harsh wisps of mist that curled and danced towards the dark heavens. Still, even with the absence of Ophelia, the Grey needed to continue on. They needed to re-form, strengthen their numbers and their walls, tighten their family bonds. It was those very thoughts that had driven the Earth Medic from the safe confines of the Foothills with only the sparse moonlight to guide his path. The chill of winter was high in the air, snow crunching beneath his ebonite hooves, but Apollo paid it no heed. No... The important thing was that he needed to search for those who were strong and capable, and hopefully on such a cold night of the entrance to Helovia, he could find someone in search of a home. Each step was light, muffled only by the disturbance of the snow, and honey-brown eyes surveyed the darkness and the trees that filled the Threshold's forests. Lighting was minimal, but for once, Apollo wasn't put-off by the darkness. There were more important things to worry about than his innate fears. Pausing mid-step, the painted medic's ears snapped to attention, his head lifting and crystalline crown pointed towards the sky as voices drifted through the trees. He huffed once, a brief exhale, before sucking in more of the frozen air, and then promptly headed towards the voices. He remained in the darkness for awhile longer, simply watching, soaking up the scene, trying to learn. The scene that he arrived on was a common sight in the Threshold; a gaggle of horses, despite their variances of breeds. Apollo's dark eyes lingered upon each and every one of them, memorizing their looks and comitting them to memory. There was one who didn't smell of Helovia, and immediately Apollo's eyes rested on him first. He was a large, impressionable stallion, with a strange two-toned coat. The newcomer looked steadfast, strong... A perfect candidate for the Grey. A rusty bay was speaking of a home to the male, a group, that welcomed those with mental instabilities, a 'refuge for outcasts'... Apollo gave a quiet snort as he listened. Another group was forming, although this one didn't seem to terrible, not like that pathetic lot of Assassins. Still, it never paid to let one's guard down. There was another, less talkative mare, but Apollo paid her little attention. Instead, he cleared his throat and moved further out of the trees, allowing himself to be seen. "My apologies for interrupting," he said kindly with a jovial enough smile, glancing to the two ladies before resting his honey-brown eyes upon the stallion, "But I couldn't help but overhear your conversations. Frostfall does so carry sound like no other season..." Here, the Medic dipped his head downwards in a form sort of bow, the crystalline crown upon his brow glinting in the moonlight. "My name is Apollo; Earth Medic of the Windtossed Foothills. A pleasure to meet you all." Lifting his head once more, Apollo smiled warmly towards the stallion. "Welcome to Helovia, friend. Perhaps you have already made up your mind, but I offer you another solution, if you, indeed, are searching for a home. I come to you offering my land, the land of the Foothills, the home of the Grey." There was a noticeable shift in Apollo's voice, a sense of pride overtaking his words as he spoke. And why shouldn't he be proud? He was a part of the Grey. "We are a band, not terribly unlike the type that this one lives in," Here, he paused for only a second, dipping his crown towards Seele, "But we are a close-knit family group. We are a band of mercenaries, who swear allegiance only to one another. We live for one another, bleed for one another. We are brothers and sisters in arms, you could say... But the life of the mercenary is counter-balanced by the life of those who do not wish to fight. Like myself." Apollo grinned again, this time giving Solace his full attention. "I prefer to heal than fight... And so that is what I do, as medic." |
I Just Want You To Know Who I Am
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