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[[ time for some good old fashioned assumptions.. I’ll try to eek us out of this awkward little rut thing that’s threatening, hmm? hopefully Nightshade can be involved shortly ]]
Tristan snorted softly, black-tipped ears flicked back as he awaited his passengers. There was a slight impatience about him in light of the approaching storm, and the fact that so much weight was bearing down upon his knee.. quite an uncomfortable position. He shifted slightly as Eruanna moved seamlessly onto his back with notable ease. Tristan cocked his head slightly to the side, giving her an appreciative nod. Despite all of her mystery, and the stalwart walls she erected about herself. Trust came as naturally as breathing to the stallion, and so long as he was given no reason to abandon his faith in someone, he would hold steadily to it.
Once Padca was aboard, Tristan rose abruptly, his contrasting forelegs shuffled slightly to remove any less than pleasant feelings in them -and to allow a moment for his passengers to settle. The thunder roared menacingly in the not-so-distant distance, and the stallion shot a quick glance back at the pair.
“I suggest you hold on.� A slow, slightly mischievous grin tugged subtly at the corners of his mouth, a threat that was not so wickedly carried out as it was put up to be.
He started at a brisk walk, eased to a trot, and pushed into a steady rocking-horse-on-a-gravel-road sort of canter. In an animal with so bulky a build, grace was often sacrificed for speed, though his gait certainly wasn’t difficult to move with.. just not the poetic, lucid gait some equines preformed. Still, there was a magnificence to it, an untapped power slowly seething from his physique with the birth of each stride. He was a horse of substance and efficiency, and certainly not one to be discarded among the ranks of cart horses and plow ponies.
His broad head tucked in against his breast, and he moved hastily along the well-beaten path, taking care to avoid the perils of low-hanging branches. The rhythmic pounding of his hooves against the earth rivaled the cry of the rolling thunder, and drowned out the steadily growing sounds of the milling village ahead. The streets were clearing in preparation for the storm. Vendors in outdoor stalls tediously packed away their precious goods, townsfolk retreated into various shelters, children were shooed into their homes, all things typical in avoiding something so simple and normally harmless as rain.
Tristan slowed as the dirt path gave way to the cobblestone streets of Ketra, eyeing the thinning throng of Adela’s commonwealth with curiosity. He paused, glancing back at Padca and Eruanna, softly uttering a simple inquiriy.
“Any particular destination you prefer?�
[[ well that was a boring post, but at least they're in Ketra ]]</center>
