 I S O R A T H a crown of sunfire and starlight
Between the library, his guest rooms and the occasional revelry, Isorath had kept himself fairly reserved to the rest of the Court. Polite to those who approached, but aloof in every other regard. A guest from Dusk, he was all too aware that his presence was something of a precarious beast, one wrong hoof could prove to be his downfall. Politics and the diplomatic arts were burned into his bones, a song and dance he could weave just as silkily as the dancers by the fire on a brisk night. Alas, it didn't matter how well one weaved their words and moved their pieces, if you were not on the stage yourself. Today turned out to be a rather different change of pace, instead of seeking out his cozy nook within the vast and comforting walls of the library, he'd decided to take a day for himself. The particular book on Calligo and her myths which had captured his attention, could wait. Leaving his cloak within his temporary chambers, he'd opted to keep his decadent jewelry and ornate halo upon his person, the latter gently rising and falling as it floated behind his antlers. Porcelain hooves struck the stone floors in a gentle tune as he navigated the winding hallways and down the stone steps. Lavender eyes cast toward the vast lands of Denocte outside of the Court walls, he hadn't thought much to watch where he was going. After all, he wasn't the most wilting violet in these hallowed halls, his splendor hard to miss even for the most unobservant. Whatever thoughts had occupied his mind snapped away with the feeling of a body colliding with his own, the winged kirin letting out a startled huff as he stumbled with the momentum. The crystals of his jewelry clinked together in a disjointed song, and large wings flared out as if to try and catch himself, before their long fingers hit the stone floor with a resounding scrape of talons. Immediately, his attention is on the culprit, who had already back peddled desperately, head wings flared and eyes wide. A child, barely a head past a yearling. The rising acidic retort died on his tongue as he opted to throw the colt a scolding look instead, and forced himself to exhale the frustration out of his mind and body. "You should watch where you're going, youngling." He commented, tone nonchalant as he really looked at the boy. It was hard to miss the whispering of the Court, no matter how far removed you attempted to be, this boy and his brother proved to be a favorite of the gossip rings. Shame it wasn't for his striking coat, or the feathery appendages which crowned him. Such things were worth more attention, than his unfortunate parentage. "Where is your mother?" OOC notes can go here, as well as tags! remove the 'hr' tag to get rid of this line ^ "this here is your speech colour! |
@Cynix — he's terrible I'm sorry.
