 WE HOPE THAT YOU CHOKE
THAT YOU CHOKE
Walking was a number one cure for nightmares in the opinion of the King, and it was under this guise that Maxence had strolled forth from his chamber to the fields of sand surrounding their refuge. The sun had only just begun to stir when the paint trudged over the dunes in the direction of the creek and the canyon that slept within it, his trek taking him a longer and slower route than he normally would take to weave through the clutches of Elatus.
The bones of the elder teryr were lit with a peachy glow by the time Maxence's hooves arrived beside it, spilling dust and sand onto them as he gaze out over the vast expanse of cliffs and the valley below. He did wonder how on earth he'd ever get down there in a timely manner were he not blessed with wings, though with the full intent of arriving at his appointment with one of the commoners on time he flared his wings against the wind, allowing it to lift him as he leapt from the cliff face.
Soaring with ease upon the current, one which carried a barely-there feel and a temperature so cool for summer it felt barely there. It was his favorite feeling; to step out onto wind untained by intense heat or cold and instead feel completely weightless. It was a blessing of the warmer months, though with their raging summer afternoons it made these mild dawns shortlived. Bexley came into view after a number of minutes of scouting the river bed and soon the sovereign touched down upon the quenched earth near by, his wings bracing against the impact of landing, a snort escaping his nares as all the air within his lungs was expelled. Turning to face the blond woman, one who had already pledged so much service to Solterra, he couldn't help but lift his perpetual scowl ever-so-slightly. Perhaps seeing the commoner, one he intended to name the Champion of community in the days to come, had raised his spirits from a no-talking-morning-mood to a talking mood. Bexley was glowing this morning, that much was true, though Maxence surely was not. "What are you smiling about?" He grumbled as he pressed on past her, accidentally brushing his shoulder against her own on his way toward the creek. The clumsiness of his stride caused him to blink and a blush even threatened in his jowls, though any stray thoughts were shaken from his mind in moments. Surveying the plant life that grew within the creekbed and surrounds, the splashed stag gave a gruff sigh accompanied by a nod. Flower picking; his favorite. AND YOU CAN LAUGH
A SPINELESS LAUGH
WE HOPE THAT YOU CHOKE
THAT YOU CHOKE
✝
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