Solis does not respond to their jibes and snorts of laughter - he is so indifferent it would appear that he might not have heard, or perhaps does not know that he is the source of Torstein’s amusement. Instead he tosses his head and smiles alongside them. But his smile holds an edge to it, a razor-sharp warning that gleams like gold in the late morning light.
His laughter is only a touch warmer than his smile, his exuberance making up for Seraphina’s reserved manner. “Well I suppose we won’t have to wait long to find out exactly how partial I am,” he says, gesturing to the desert opening up before them.
Like a scene from a fairytale, the clouds and fog seem to lift away at his command, the snow halting to reveal miles of snow-covered desert. At the heart is the shadow of a herd: twenty-or-more elk milling together in a place they clearly did not belong.
Solis looks back at his followers, pitting their odds against the wintery beasts. “Shall we get started?” he asks, already moving forward.
As always, the Sun God is impatient - and reckless.
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