But would I run today just to die another day
His was a quiet arrival, a soul of grey and silvery-white flashing into being in the fading light of day, the path he had walked one of starlight and foreign magic. At last he had come to the end of that path, and stood upon the bluffs of a new land, a foreign world, the portal-path he had paid for sealing behind him with a gentle hiss. The salt in the air fills his lungs, the wind teases his pale hair, and his proud visage stands tall against the sudden drop of the cliffs behind him.
So this was Novus, a land of stories yet told and a place his relations had not yet made a mark upon. He felt very much a pioneer, very much felt as if finally, finally he had stepped wholly and resolutely onto the path that would see his dream fulfilled. The wind smelled of destiny, calling to him in such dulcet tones that he yearned to explode into action, to toss up his heels and streak along the razor's edge of the cliff, a rapier of white and wild laughter to be snatched away by the wind and sea. He reigned in such childish temptations, of course, but allowed himself a brilliant grin. Finally... his hooves danced across the grass as he strolled along the cliffside, robust neck arched before he flung his head up and let loose a wild laugh. It was far from the cavorting he had wanted, but it eased that buildup of energetic excitement within him. Yet still he boiled with anticipation, a breathless sensation, one that yet another liberating laugh of triumph to the air could not dispel. He knew not where he would go, what he would do, what even the inhabitants of this land were like.
None of that mattered to the white knight as he surrendered to his desires and tossed his heels, bolting along the edge of the cliffs as if the hounds of hell were on him. None of it mattered in the face of a dream he could all but taste on the air(never you mind that all he could really taste was salt). He heard not the rush of waves in his ears, only the ominous words of a gypsy oracle proclaiming his destiny one of greatness and legend. Perhaps she had tricked the young stallion, those many days past, gave him falsehood for his payment, but to Arluin it was prophecy, and now that he raced along the shores of Novus, he felt as if that destiny lay like a visible mantle upon his shoulders. His hooves thundered on the grass, his mane whipped in the wind, his laughter vanished from his lips by the wake of his passing. He did not stop until the greying world passed fully into twilight; then he stood a ribbon of pale, tarnished silver, the ruby of his horn brilliant in the grey world of dusk, and he stood overlooking the sea in triumph, proud and eager.
Let Arya have her women-raiders!
Let her have that would fade with time!
Arluin had found his destiny.
So this was Novus, a land of stories yet told and a place his relations had not yet made a mark upon. He felt very much a pioneer, very much felt as if finally, finally he had stepped wholly and resolutely onto the path that would see his dream fulfilled. The wind smelled of destiny, calling to him in such dulcet tones that he yearned to explode into action, to toss up his heels and streak along the razor's edge of the cliff, a rapier of white and wild laughter to be snatched away by the wind and sea. He reigned in such childish temptations, of course, but allowed himself a brilliant grin. Finally... his hooves danced across the grass as he strolled along the cliffside, robust neck arched before he flung his head up and let loose a wild laugh. It was far from the cavorting he had wanted, but it eased that buildup of energetic excitement within him. Yet still he boiled with anticipation, a breathless sensation, one that yet another liberating laugh of triumph to the air could not dispel. He knew not where he would go, what he would do, what even the inhabitants of this land were like.
None of that mattered to the white knight as he surrendered to his desires and tossed his heels, bolting along the edge of the cliffs as if the hounds of hell were on him. None of it mattered in the face of a dream he could all but taste on the air(never you mind that all he could really taste was salt). He heard not the rush of waves in his ears, only the ominous words of a gypsy oracle proclaiming his destiny one of greatness and legend. Perhaps she had tricked the young stallion, those many days past, gave him falsehood for his payment, but to Arluin it was prophecy, and now that he raced along the shores of Novus, he felt as if that destiny lay like a visible mantle upon his shoulders. His hooves thundered on the grass, his mane whipped in the wind, his laughter vanished from his lips by the wake of his passing. He did not stop until the greying world passed fully into twilight; then he stood a ribbon of pale, tarnished silver, the ruby of his horn brilliant in the grey world of dusk, and he stood overlooking the sea in triumph, proud and eager.
Let Arya have her women-raiders!
Let her have that would fade with time!
Arluin had found his destiny.
Give up now and every fight has been in vain,
ODDMOUNTAIN
Open for anyone! Say hello to the silly bean xD
