There is a spark of something in the red stained stallion's chest as his companion returns his grin, and after a moment of consideration, Camdis realizes that it is delight.
He's never had someone smile back at him before.
It is an effort not to let the joy show, though he knows that his eyes of moonlight sparkle in response - his mother had always said that his eyes spoke more truth than his mouth ever could. Tilting his ears toward the rugged stallion as he replied, his voice carrying easily across the small space between them, Camdis nodded in agreement and shifted his hips so that they found a softer patch of dirt and didn't dig into with so much pressure.
"Rostislav," he murmured, enjoying the way the rounded syllables rolled off of his tongue with such ease. He wondered if his comrade's mother nation spoke a different language, had different lore, if it were a common occurrence to lay beside strangers and admire a lake in the light of dawn. Camdis had never had any friends, advisors and tutors had flowed aplenty in his throne room and chambers, and he had enemies numbering in the hundreds if his spymasters were to be believed, but a friend? It seemed a gift too precious for the Bastard Lord and his bloody past. He decided not to dwell on the possibility of friendship with Rostislav, lest he overthink and ruin whatever kindness that the stallion had offered.
Then, a happy groan burst from his companion's lips as he stretched out on the grass, laying down fully but not allowing his position to obscure Camdis from his watchful gaze. With a nod and something akin to a shrug, the horned stag joined his fellow, relishing in the ease with which his body relaxed into the grass and loam. Much like Rostislav, Cam lay so that the stallion at his side remained in view, though he was a bit surprised at how there was only about a foot of space between their faces. He decided not to comment on the close proximity, lest he draw unnecessary attention to it and ruin the moment.
Of course, due to his horns, Camdis was unable to lay his cheek flat against the earth, so he instead settled for resting the weight of his skull upon the curve of his horn, muzzle pressed into the ground while his horn left a small space between his cheek and the grass. The position would muffle his speech, but he didn't mind.
"I wouldmph suppose you habe an idea fer a comfier fet up, would you?" came his earth-garbled question, eyes smiling where his lips would not.
He's never had someone smile back at him before.
It is an effort not to let the joy show, though he knows that his eyes of moonlight sparkle in response - his mother had always said that his eyes spoke more truth than his mouth ever could. Tilting his ears toward the rugged stallion as he replied, his voice carrying easily across the small space between them, Camdis nodded in agreement and shifted his hips so that they found a softer patch of dirt and didn't dig into with so much pressure.
"Rostislav," he murmured, enjoying the way the rounded syllables rolled off of his tongue with such ease. He wondered if his comrade's mother nation spoke a different language, had different lore, if it were a common occurrence to lay beside strangers and admire a lake in the light of dawn. Camdis had never had any friends, advisors and tutors had flowed aplenty in his throne room and chambers, and he had enemies numbering in the hundreds if his spymasters were to be believed, but a friend? It seemed a gift too precious for the Bastard Lord and his bloody past. He decided not to dwell on the possibility of friendship with Rostislav, lest he overthink and ruin whatever kindness that the stallion had offered.
Then, a happy groan burst from his companion's lips as he stretched out on the grass, laying down fully but not allowing his position to obscure Camdis from his watchful gaze. With a nod and something akin to a shrug, the horned stag joined his fellow, relishing in the ease with which his body relaxed into the grass and loam. Much like Rostislav, Cam lay so that the stallion at his side remained in view, though he was a bit surprised at how there was only about a foot of space between their faces. He decided not to comment on the close proximity, lest he draw unnecessary attention to it and ruin the moment.
Of course, due to his horns, Camdis was unable to lay his cheek flat against the earth, so he instead settled for resting the weight of his skull upon the curve of his horn, muzzle pressed into the ground while his horn left a small space between his cheek and the grass. The position would muffle his speech, but he didn't mind.
"I wouldmph suppose you habe an idea fer a comfier fet up, would you?" came his earth-garbled question, eyes smiling where his lips would not.
@Rostislav IM NOT CRYING YOU ARE. THIS IS HIS FIRST FRIEND UGH
