The voice he heard was far from being Caligo’s.
Rather, as the winged youth turned about, pale eyes found the stout and gnarled figure of a stallion, expression twisted with distaste as he weighed in on Raglan’s plea. Quirking a brow, the Crow felt the vulnerability that he had cultured throughout his mountain trek diminish. Blinking slowly, the Silvertongue assessed the older male as he continued to speak, gaze traveling along the corded bulges of old muscle and noting the faded imprint of scars here and there. Flaring his nostrils, Raglan caught the scent of paints and felt his other brow rise to match the first as he noticed the colorful paper spread behind the elder stallion.
He supposed that everyone was entitled to their hobbies; though verbally berating strangers and fine arts didn’t seem to be a predictable pair.
Cocking his horned head to the side, causing the gem embedded within his forehead to glint in the moonlight, Raglan proffered an impish grin. With a swish of his ivory tail and a few steps toward the stranger, the Denoctian felt a surge of excitement at the newest development in his increasingly unpredictable journey. It had been so long since he had loosened up his metaphorical tie and swapped meaningless words with another.
“You must be Solterran,” drawled the leggy stag, characteristic smirk already spreading over his features, “No one from any other court would take such pride in being an ass.” The bloody bay kept his voice light, pleasant even, as he addressed the older stallion. Making a show of sucking on his teeth and running his tongue along the insides of his mouth, the aggravating Crow gave a huh before speaking again, “Unfortunately, it seems like I have all of my teeth. Care to knock them out for me?”
@Booker
