Willfur
"Oh, nowhere in particular." He answers summarily. The mule shakes himself, loosening and aerating his claybank coat to better insulate against the wind, and causing a brief swell of falsetto notes to ring out from the silver bell braided into his tail, only a little tarnished. "I just wanted to soak up the last of the sun before the cold and the clouds move in. I much prefer sweating to shivering you know, but we don't always get a choice." Glancing up, expectation, question, and a hint of laughter flicker across his blocky features. Just what remark might that bring?
Willfur is fully aware that he looks every bit the burly, outdoorsy-in-any-weather type, but so often appearances can be misleading in life, and he's not nearly so immovable as his silhouette might lead others to believe. "I'll probably spend most of the winter months tucked into some book or scroll in the Library, nestled into a soft cushion near a hearth." A sigh escapes, the thought already beginning to draw him back there, an irresistibly deep well to his unquenchable thirst for information.
"In fact, I think it's about time I head back. I've basked all I can and the temperature is already starting to drop." Ears tipping away from the rising wind, he turns to the southwest and cranes his neck around to look back at the other stallion, the sheltered space along his shoulder as open and inviting as his wide, hazel eyes. "We could walk together for a ways, if you like. It won't hurt my feelings if not! But I'd love to hear a little of your poetry, and about your friends in the Dawn Court - I've only just joined and haven't had the pleasure of meeting too many other members yet - and more about your Solterra, of course."
This time he doesn't hold back his multitude of questions, secure now in the knowledge that no amount of attention is likely to overwhelm or sour the little bard, because some things are what they appear to be, too.
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