morozko
and all our footprints in the snow.
The more Morozko observes of the stranger as the faint morning light paints in detail, the more curious he becomes. If the stallion would have claimed to be from the Summer Court, he would have believed him; what a sight he might make, poised for battle beneath the blazing sun. But the soldier had never seen his like before, and he knew most of the great families of that court.
Well, there were other places than Veteris to come from. He wonders which this fellow calls home.
Though he knows it for the joking answer it is, a smile creases one of his cheeks at the response, and his gaze moves to the cascade of mane in question. “I can imagine.” The unicorn is suddenly glad of his own roached mane, though he knows that soon it’ll begin to grow out into something shaggy and undignified. He’ll have to find somebody to help him trim it, lest he end up with the same woes as the pale stallion. Of course, it would take him a hundred years to grow a mane so fine and long, and he’d have no idea what to do with it.
The idea of a bath and a meal still beckons, but Morozko’s body is still cooling from the exertion, and he is content, for the moment, to wonder why the stranger was up as early as he. He steps aside, just enough to stop blocking the doorway, and cocks a hind hoof as his eyes travel again from the rosy morning light pooling around the other’s golden hooves up to his face, crowed by those magnificent antlers.
“Are you a citizen here?” he asks, his languid voice belying his interest. “I missed you at that meeting. Would’ve noticed all that hair.” He doesn’t wear a smile, this time, but it’s still present in the gleam of his eyes.
@Isorath ugh this is garbage, I’m sorry
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