Fimbulvetr

Poppy

Character OTS

OTS 1
OTS 2

Aishe & Evandr

Couple OTS


Private protection

#1
I'VE GOT WAY TOO MANY FEELS, WAY TOO MUCH EMOTION, I DON'T EVEN KNOW WHAT'S REAL ―
It was wonderful being back within the territory of ambrosius again, truly it was. But he could not seem to shake the feeling that it all might have been too good to be true sometimes. Some days he found himself wondering if everything would change and they would haul him back off to the lands of the wastes battered and bruised. The thought alone made his healing scars fill with a phantom ache that time alone could not seem to heal. The specter closed his eyes, willing the all too fresh memories of his exile to go away from his mind's eye.

His visage turned to look out and beyond the curtain of the waterfall he slept behind, his expression thoughtful if one could call it that. He had heard that there was a new blacksmith that had set up show within ambrosius' hold and he wondered if the new citizen could help him with his mental trauma. Yes...perhaps. Maybe the blacksmith could fashion him some type of armor, anything to help him with his current insecurities. A heavy sigh fell from the phantom's nares as he pushed himself to stand.

Vast wings unfurled from his sides and stretched wide within the hollow cavern before retracting back to his sides. It was time to pay this fellow named Rost a visit. The strange combination of scraping talons and clopping hooves filled the air as Nevermore cantered forward before lunging into flight. Water from the falls washed over his starlit form as his wings caught the current, allowing him to glide in the direction of the forge in the distance. Guided by the smell of smoke and iron he coasted on the winds for a time wondering if this all might have been some sort of mistake.

Regardless, he had come this far and there was no need to turn back now. His feathered limbs grew tired but he had finally made it to the glow of the man's workshop. He hastily descended, landing hooves first before his talons landed upon the snow laden ground. Stepping high Nevermore approached the archway, poking his head inside whilst looking around. Is there a Rost here by any chance? I require some armor if thou can provide it... The once regent called, buffeted by a cold wind whipping past.
000 words. tagged. Rost
Tag: @[Nevermore]