"Caligo bless the Crows," Came the stallion's low grumble as he gazed down at the sleeping form of Charlemagne. One of Raglan's little fellows had sprinted up to him while he was holed up in one of the city's many bookstores, silvery eyes squinting at old scrolls and ornate spines. He had been searching for any tome that might hold information on the gods' tangible forms, on what they looked like, on how they behaved, on what sort of contact they had made with mortals in the past recorded millennia. Yet, when the lanky filly had squeaked his name in her cherubic voice and told him of the Dawn Court child that smelled of salt and sand and mountain passes, of the lad's golden crown and ivory splashed skin, Camdis Lohir had rushed from the shoppe and toward the lake.
It hadn't been a terribly long journey, the stallion's muscular legs eating up the distance with each cantered stride and the cobbles quickly changing to grass. He had approached quietly enough, but Camdis had never been one blessed with a penchant for silence; his hooves were too big and his body too heavy. Looking behind him, he saw the swath of flattened grass where his mane and tail had pressed the stalks earthward. At least the boy wont have to worry about losing his way if I vanish into smoke, thought the Exile King drily.
Turning back to the snoozing lad at his hooves, Camdis lowered his great horned head and lightly nudged at Charlemagne's shoulder, a murmured "Wake, my boy, there's a feather bed and a hot meal waiting for you at the keep. Come now, rise." Straightening and stepping back, the Stained Hand stepped back and waited.
It hadn't been a terribly long journey, the stallion's muscular legs eating up the distance with each cantered stride and the cobbles quickly changing to grass. He had approached quietly enough, but Camdis had never been one blessed with a penchant for silence; his hooves were too big and his body too heavy. Looking behind him, he saw the swath of flattened grass where his mane and tail had pressed the stalks earthward. At least the boy wont have to worry about losing his way if I vanish into smoke, thought the Exile King drily.
Turning back to the snoozing lad at his hooves, Camdis lowered his great horned head and lightly nudged at Charlemagne's shoulder, a murmured "Wake, my boy, there's a feather bed and a hot meal waiting for you at the keep. Come now, rise." Straightening and stepping back, the Stained Hand stepped back and waited.
@Charlemagne MY BABYYYY
