morozko
and all our footprints in the snow.
It was the drumming of hooves on the mighty building’s roof that first drew Morozko’s ire.
He had just been making his way into the courtyard when he heard it, and paused with narrowed eyes as the shadow of the stallion passed overhead, wings stirring the grasses and bending their heads low. It was not a figure he had seen before; it was certainly one he would remember, even before he spied the lion’s head that adorned the male’s rump. The unicorn paused, neck arched, half in shadow and half in sun from his place in the doorway.
And then the stranger - the trespasser, as far as Morozko knew - hollered for his queen, and the soldier stepped forward with a snort.
As he drew near enough to fully take in the whole of the stallion’s impressive appearance, the main thing he marked was the scowl he wore, one that seemed to mirror the expression of the unfortunate lion. For his part, Morozko kept his expression impassive, though his silver eyes were cool as chips of ice. The scent of the Day Court - of blistering sun and dry sand and wild wind - was unmistakable on the stallion and those with him. The only question was if they posed a threat.
“You may be awaiting a while, if you don’t show the proper respect for a sovereign in her own home.” Morozko shifted his weight, eyes unwavering from the imposing stallion’s features. Luckily for all gathered, he did not add what else lingered on his winter-sharp tongue - namely, wondering whether all the Day Court were such barbarians.
Not that that was a bad thing in all circumstances. He knew of at least one whose ravenous tastes were actually quite enjoyable.
@Maxence @Rannveig
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