máni
for glorious are we
It was surprising, how easy he could slip in to a more relaxed state when talking to others. Generally, he kept to himself for the most part, but the role of Regent had forced him out of his proverbial shell of solitude, but it was a good thing. A small smile pulled his lips all the same, and Máni lifted his head a little more, looking over toward Isorath with warmer violet eyes. "I would hope so. I also have Rannveig too, so we both share this, and learn from one another. Though her's is Sovereign, and I am merely Regent, there is still a weight there that we can both shoulder." It was good teamwork, even more so when she was his mate (even if she was a little wary of Vidar).
It was good to hear interest in his homelands, and his eyes softened just a touch around the edges, drawing in a warm fondness that came with the thoughts of his homeland. "Our Gods and Goddesses loved to mingle with us, to bless us and watch our errors. It was.. well, a rather tough world, despite what it sounds like. Punishments were handed out to those that deserved it, but we had a healthy respect for the deities and the lands. It became peaceful enough, after the wars." His lips twitched, though he could only ever recall the wars being told to him as a gangly little colt with giant violent eyes and a gasp in his lungs. It had been used to terrify him, and it had worked. The Ice Giants lived still, of course, and the wars were between the villages of old. Some worshipped the giants, some the deities. They had clashed time and time again and it had been brutal in the times before the deities touching down and walking among them.
Máni's attention flickered back to Isorath, his mind plucking itself from the memories of old, and he tilted his head the slightest, twitching an ear forward as he felt the strands of cream roll down his nape slowly. "The burning?" It sounded, well, absolutely painful. Would they be bathed in dragon fire? He wanted to ask, but he was questioned first, and he rumbled a laugh, low and soft. "Oh they were big, of course. Not like walking mountains, but taller than most trees in the area, their hands could grasp someone of my size with ease, and pop me like a grape." He shuddered at the thought, making a subtle face. "They're made of living ice, or so it seems. The ice never melts, even in the warmest of days. They seem to be made of something harder than that, as if magic seeps through their veins. They can conjure blizzards and heavy snowfall, bend ice to their will. Their eyes were always something to behold; a glaring yellow from the midst of blue. They looked.. odd. Walking on two legs most times, using their hands. Their faces were filled with sharp teeth and a wicked glare, their hair was also ice. Startling if you ever saw one. More like massive goblins."
It was good to hear interest in his homelands, and his eyes softened just a touch around the edges, drawing in a warm fondness that came with the thoughts of his homeland. "Our Gods and Goddesses loved to mingle with us, to bless us and watch our errors. It was.. well, a rather tough world, despite what it sounds like. Punishments were handed out to those that deserved it, but we had a healthy respect for the deities and the lands. It became peaceful enough, after the wars." His lips twitched, though he could only ever recall the wars being told to him as a gangly little colt with giant violent eyes and a gasp in his lungs. It had been used to terrify him, and it had worked. The Ice Giants lived still, of course, and the wars were between the villages of old. Some worshipped the giants, some the deities. They had clashed time and time again and it had been brutal in the times before the deities touching down and walking among them.
Máni's attention flickered back to Isorath, his mind plucking itself from the memories of old, and he tilted his head the slightest, twitching an ear forward as he felt the strands of cream roll down his nape slowly. "The burning?" It sounded, well, absolutely painful. Would they be bathed in dragon fire? He wanted to ask, but he was questioned first, and he rumbled a laugh, low and soft. "Oh they were big, of course. Not like walking mountains, but taller than most trees in the area, their hands could grasp someone of my size with ease, and pop me like a grape." He shuddered at the thought, making a subtle face. "They're made of living ice, or so it seems. The ice never melts, even in the warmest of days. They seem to be made of something harder than that, as if magic seeps through their veins. They can conjure blizzards and heavy snowfall, bend ice to their will. Their eyes were always something to behold; a glaring yellow from the midst of blue. They looked.. odd. Walking on two legs most times, using their hands. Their faces were filled with sharp teeth and a wicked glare, their hair was also ice. Startling if you ever saw one. More like massive goblins."
@Isorath
