He had never met anyone that wasn't entranced by the sea, and he figured that it made sense well enough; the waters danced to a rhythm no one knew, they hissed and roared and chortled, they engulfed empires and survived past anything that anyone had ever known. Yet, Raglan found that he was immune to the siren song of the ocean. He couldn't quite care about the salty, briney mess and it's love of devouring innocents then bashing their limp corpses along the rocks. In fact, one could say that the yearling resented the ocean. Indeed, for as the youth stood upon the sands with his gaze tracing the horizon, he could feel his top lip curl in distaste.
"Beautiful things are never really all that beautiful if you get close enough," he muttered, voice whisked away by the seaweed scented breeze that ran lukewarm fingers through silvery strands and riffled over feathered wings.
Running his tongue over his freshly polished teeth, Raglan made a mental note to thank Camdis Lohir yet again for the seemingly bottomless pit that was the Regent's generosity; the yearling hadn't had to pay for even the most petty expenses since taking up residence within the fortress. In return, all the horned stallion asked was that Raglan continued with his studies and worked as his assistant - an easy enough task for the clever lad.
The thought of his improving station caused the rogue's countenance to smooth out, all traces of disgust and resentment fading away to resemble something almost peaceful. Yes, he supposed that he had much and more to enjoy from his short life and that he should refrain from judgement as best he could, but resistance and moderation had never been strong suits for the Street Crow.
The probably never would be, either.
"Beautiful things are never really all that beautiful if you get close enough," he muttered, voice whisked away by the seaweed scented breeze that ran lukewarm fingers through silvery strands and riffled over feathered wings.
Running his tongue over his freshly polished teeth, Raglan made a mental note to thank Camdis Lohir yet again for the seemingly bottomless pit that was the Regent's generosity; the yearling hadn't had to pay for even the most petty expenses since taking up residence within the fortress. In return, all the horned stallion asked was that Raglan continued with his studies and worked as his assistant - an easy enough task for the clever lad.
The thought of his improving station caused the rogue's countenance to smooth out, all traces of disgust and resentment fading away to resemble something almost peaceful. Yes, he supposed that he had much and more to enjoy from his short life and that he should refrain from judgement as best he could, but resistance and moderation had never been strong suits for the Street Crow.
The probably never would be, either.
@Ipomoea and anyone else! Sorry for crappy post, im still learning about my baby
