Andarin: The Mountains: hesper. --

“Well, the elements are a bit crazy-inducing,” he muses thoughtfully.

But truth is, he’d never seen such a thing -- well, they drove him crazy, but not the getting-chummy-with-the-tea-cozy kind of crazy; just average exasperation. He did feel a bit sorry about the filly, though, as she flopped rather nonchalantly at his feet (a bit like a puppet with cut strings, really).

She was kind of cute.

Oh, bugger it all.

“What’s wrong, child?”

The snake who was most definitely not Dior rolled its eyes, or would have if such things were compatible with reptilian anatomy, which they weren’t.

It had just begun to wind itself stealthily down its steed’s body when…

“Bonita!” the colt exclaimed, appearing seemingly out of thin air (a magician never reveals its tricks) besides them. He was a lot younger than Hesper, smaller and frailer -- his limbs too thin, his eyes too haunted, almost crazed, his ribs too scrawny -- but he did glow almost ferociously, all kinds of small branches, bits of snow and pebbles trailing in his wake like flotsam in an invisible river.

He was also, from the tip of his ears to the sole of his hooves, quite obviously Wyvern’s child; if not in looks, then the earth singing around him like a separate, sentient being would’ve cinched it.

“Why triste?” he butted his nose against the filly’s neck, before flopping ungracefully right besides (and somewhat over) her. For a moment, his brow furrowed -- oh -- then -- “don’t te preocupes, it’ll be over soon,” he hummed and then chewed at her mane idly.

Manners weren’t really Loki’s forte.

wyvern ; loki
a boy and his father;