Trust me, you are nothing but another weak animal minding the strongest whip
Anger, slightly tempered but still boiling hot in his veins, drove the Warden back towards the sands of the desert. Sweat soaked his hide, muddling with the dried blood and saltwater. He saw, remembered, each vivid moment - and it lit the fire under his hooves, carried him quicker over the long-stretch of continent that stood between the South of the Terminus Sea and Solterra.
It took him days, but he arrived back just in time to hear the news of Maxence's disappearance and presumed death. It did not shock him, truth be told. The stallion was destined to meet his maker one way or another, especially with how hot-headed he rolled into the Desert and began kicking up sand.
Some of that sand landed in the eyes of some less than savory characters, and it was this that drove Tor towards Solterra again.
Upon hoof touching sand, the first words that left his mouth were Where are Avdotya and Seraphina? No consolation given to the other Solterrans in regards to Maxence's death.. while it was tragic, he had far more important things to deal with.... things that were directly caused by that egotistical painted stallion.
- - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - - -
When someone finally pointed him in the correct direction, Tor was quick to find the two. His steps had slowed, his muscles ached - but he had been worse off before. The rain that soaked him and Araxes at the Terminus sea had not been enough to wash off all of the blood that clung to his fur, leaving stains where the rivulets of blood ran down his crown and the crest of his neck. If the Warden could torture that stallion a million times over, he would - he enjoyed it.
"Seraphina, Avdotya," he called out to them as he approached, ears rolling uncharacteristically forward. "Pardon, but it's best we speak in private. I feel the matter might be urgent, given the circumstances."
And you had to admit, he was right. With Maxence's disappearance and presumed death, that left Solterra scrambling to adjust their ranks - an obvious weak point, should the other courts decide to take advantage of such. And so, Tor wasted no time in turning towards the direction he intended to head and speak in seclusion... stopping a little bit a ways away to look back over his shoulder towards both the newly appointed Sovereign (a fact he was unaware of, since he came in distinctly after their conversation) and the Regent.
From behind, stained onto his ivory fur, you could easily see where the bloody rivulets cascaded down his neck. There were rogue patches of dried, coagulated blood that he had not bothered brushing off.. and while the rain did a good job at washing away the thick layer of blood that had coated his horns, it was nowhere close to enough to wash out his mane. The only saving grace was how roached his mane was near the crest of his neck... the only part that truly suffered was his forelock, which was matted and stained. His face was eerily calm for someone who looked like they just ... well yeah, just murdered someone.
But perhaps more unsettling than the blood that stained his body and settled deep into the cracks within his hooves, was his demeanor. His rage was tempered, but present - seen by the settled line of his mouth, ears tightly pinned back to the crown of his head, emotion within eyes that were now equally matched in color by his fur.
It took him days, but he arrived back just in time to hear the news of Maxence's disappearance and presumed death. It did not shock him, truth be told. The stallion was destined to meet his maker one way or another, especially with how hot-headed he rolled into the Desert and began kicking up sand.
Some of that sand landed in the eyes of some less than savory characters, and it was this that drove Tor towards Solterra again.
Upon hoof touching sand, the first words that left his mouth were Where are Avdotya and Seraphina? No consolation given to the other Solterrans in regards to Maxence's death.. while it was tragic, he had far more important things to deal with.... things that were directly caused by that egotistical painted stallion.
When someone finally pointed him in the correct direction, Tor was quick to find the two. His steps had slowed, his muscles ached - but he had been worse off before. The rain that soaked him and Araxes at the Terminus sea had not been enough to wash off all of the blood that clung to his fur, leaving stains where the rivulets of blood ran down his crown and the crest of his neck. If the Warden could torture that stallion a million times over, he would - he enjoyed it.
"Seraphina, Avdotya," he called out to them as he approached, ears rolling uncharacteristically forward. "Pardon, but it's best we speak in private. I feel the matter might be urgent, given the circumstances."
And you had to admit, he was right. With Maxence's disappearance and presumed death, that left Solterra scrambling to adjust their ranks - an obvious weak point, should the other courts decide to take advantage of such. And so, Tor wasted no time in turning towards the direction he intended to head and speak in seclusion... stopping a little bit a ways away to look back over his shoulder towards both the newly appointed Sovereign (a fact he was unaware of, since he came in distinctly after their conversation) and the Regent.
From behind, stained onto his ivory fur, you could easily see where the bloody rivulets cascaded down his neck. There were rogue patches of dried, coagulated blood that he had not bothered brushing off.. and while the rain did a good job at washing away the thick layer of blood that had coated his horns, it was nowhere close to enough to wash out his mane. The only saving grace was how roached his mane was near the crest of his neck... the only part that truly suffered was his forelock, which was matted and stained. His face was eerily calm for someone who looked like they just ... well yeah, just murdered someone.
But perhaps more unsettling than the blood that stained his body and settled deep into the cracks within his hooves, was his demeanor. His rage was tempered, but present - seen by the settled line of his mouth, ears tightly pinned back to the crown of his head, emotion within eyes that were now equally matched in color by his fur.
[ please tag @Torstein in all replies ]
I have three eyes
TWO TO LOOK ONE TO SEE
