i s o r a t h
a king in his own right,
a king without a kingdom.
There was something about the night that brought with it a sense of tranquility few would be hard pressed to find when the sun reigned supreme. Even when it blanketed such a place as Eluetheria, with it's golden grasses and sun kissed plains, the moon light cast it in a serene hue which lessened the hand of summer and it's almost oppressive heat, but not enough to banish it completely. A perfect balance for a creature such as himself, as he glided a hairs breath from the ground, wings occasionally rising and falling to keep him effortlessly in the air. Silver hair left long and loose to stream in the night breeze, the occasional twist and curl dragging along the ground.
His homeland had been as varied as Novus, in it's climates and biomes, the rolling plains to be found to the east had been a blend of sandy crags and grasslands. The Sage hadn't visited thoe places as often as he'd liked, duties to his family had seen him tied to the capital and often the white halls of his palatial home. But he had seen Flora and Fauna both overflowing and sparse depending what little he had visited, and it's citizens as hardy and rugged as the lands they proudly called their home. If he closed his eyes, he could see them here, camped out beneath the sky on beds made of sun parched grasses, their rugged song lifted high as the fires cackled long into the night.
Novus was ever more becoming a balm which soothed the home sickness he kept buried deep down.
His amethyst gaze had also been cast toward the blanket of ink and starlight above, the moon's light reflecting off the soft hues trapped within his iris. Isorath had always been a patron of the sun, but as of late he found himself drawn toward the twilight and the night, the last tendrils of sunlight scattered in a dazzling hue of pastel pinks, purples, blues and oranges and then the effortlessly smooth expanse of dark which swallowed them up. The Kirin almost missed the carpet of fire flies until they began to drift past him like embers on the wind, one at first and then more. Carried by the breeze and their own whims, their warm glow reflecting dimly off of his gilded scales and shimmering pelt. Reluctantly, he had pulled his gaze and his mind from the stars and the moons aluring visage to pay attention to the carpet of light beneath his hooves.
Isorath had never seen anything like it, the slow waltz of the fireflies and the song which now reached his ears. A delicate ear tilted toward the source of the lilted words which joined the occasional chatter of the night realm, and he made the conscious decision to land. One cloven hoof after the other, his wings stretched to catch him in their taloned grip. It wasn't hard to spot the source of the song, though he hesitated in stepping any closer. Instead he settled into a comfortable silence, tail coiled neatly around his hocks and hair flowing gently in the soft breeze. The words were foreign to his ears, the more he listened, a song from this land perhaps? The logical part of his mind, the one that was tied to his duty, urged him to speak up. Perhaps the mare would be comfortable with teaching him it, or reciting it so he may record it for others to learn and sing.
"That song you sing," he piped up, loud enough to be heard but not placing much bite into the words, his antlered head tilted a fraction to the left "is it from here, or another land?" Isorath hummed, hesitating before taking one small step forward and stilling once more in place. "I've not heard anything quite like it."
"Isorath talks."
This styling is also nice for some non-obtrusive OOC credits, wordcount or banter. Don't forget that divider up there.
a king in his own right,
a king without a kingdom.
There was something about the night that brought with it a sense of tranquility few would be hard pressed to find when the sun reigned supreme. Even when it blanketed such a place as Eluetheria, with it's golden grasses and sun kissed plains, the moon light cast it in a serene hue which lessened the hand of summer and it's almost oppressive heat, but not enough to banish it completely. A perfect balance for a creature such as himself, as he glided a hairs breath from the ground, wings occasionally rising and falling to keep him effortlessly in the air. Silver hair left long and loose to stream in the night breeze, the occasional twist and curl dragging along the ground.
His homeland had been as varied as Novus, in it's climates and biomes, the rolling plains to be found to the east had been a blend of sandy crags and grasslands. The Sage hadn't visited thoe places as often as he'd liked, duties to his family had seen him tied to the capital and often the white halls of his palatial home. But he had seen Flora and Fauna both overflowing and sparse depending what little he had visited, and it's citizens as hardy and rugged as the lands they proudly called their home. If he closed his eyes, he could see them here, camped out beneath the sky on beds made of sun parched grasses, their rugged song lifted high as the fires cackled long into the night.
Novus was ever more becoming a balm which soothed the home sickness he kept buried deep down.
His amethyst gaze had also been cast toward the blanket of ink and starlight above, the moon's light reflecting off the soft hues trapped within his iris. Isorath had always been a patron of the sun, but as of late he found himself drawn toward the twilight and the night, the last tendrils of sunlight scattered in a dazzling hue of pastel pinks, purples, blues and oranges and then the effortlessly smooth expanse of dark which swallowed them up. The Kirin almost missed the carpet of fire flies until they began to drift past him like embers on the wind, one at first and then more. Carried by the breeze and their own whims, their warm glow reflecting dimly off of his gilded scales and shimmering pelt. Reluctantly, he had pulled his gaze and his mind from the stars and the moons aluring visage to pay attention to the carpet of light beneath his hooves.
Isorath had never seen anything like it, the slow waltz of the fireflies and the song which now reached his ears. A delicate ear tilted toward the source of the lilted words which joined the occasional chatter of the night realm, and he made the conscious decision to land. One cloven hoof after the other, his wings stretched to catch him in their taloned grip. It wasn't hard to spot the source of the song, though he hesitated in stepping any closer. Instead he settled into a comfortable silence, tail coiled neatly around his hocks and hair flowing gently in the soft breeze. The words were foreign to his ears, the more he listened, a song from this land perhaps? The logical part of his mind, the one that was tied to his duty, urged him to speak up. Perhaps the mare would be comfortable with teaching him it, or reciting it so he may record it for others to learn and sing.
"That song you sing," he piped up, loud enough to be heard but not placing much bite into the words, his antlered head tilted a fraction to the left "is it from here, or another land?" Isorath hummed, hesitating before taking one small step forward and stilling once more in place. "I've not heard anything quite like it."
"Isorath talks."
This styling is also nice for some non-obtrusive OOC credits, wordcount or banter. Don't forget that divider up there.
@
