Testing, 1 2 3!

ROSCORRO you and atlas are one and the same, my dear He found it far quicker and easier to fly to places these days. His great wings carried him far further than his thundering hooves and paws ever could. Eating up the miles as he soared high over head. It allowed for him to visit the areas surrounding his herd far faster than walking or running. He could be off and return in a far shorter amount of time. Which was what he desired. To remain away from the kingdom for too long was unwise. Not that he thought anything would befall the small, but determine herd, but he wasn't one to risk the safety and unity of his family by disappearing for weeks on end. His little missions beyond his home had proven to be rather fruitful, allowing him to meet new people and gather various plants to possibly cultivate within their greenhouses. Today though, he found himself flying above the cliffs of the pinnacle. He had not been here since the appearance of the goddess Hope. The mountain still glowed with its mysterious light and he wondered if any more gods were slumbering within. With another stroke of his wings he was descending, his mighty frame streaming smoke behind him, like a burning plane. His cloak flapped in the wind, the beads and trinkets in his mane jingling as his necklace slapped against his neck. His horns were reduced to the simple circlet atop his head. He had gained quite the accumulation of treasures and items, all gifted to him by the Rift's beings. First the Matron, then the goddess Hope herself. In one year he had gained more than he had ever been allowed to own in his life, and he was becoming quite weighed down. Even still, his wings carried him on, seemingly unhindered by the added weight. Strong, powerful. Tested strengthened upon the stormy winds of the Rift. For a beast of such size and sharpness, Roscorro appeared elegant and almost serene as he danced upon the wind. If the mare thought she was alone, she was wrong. The keen eyes of the stallion had been watching her as he glided lower and lower. She was a curiosity. She was acting like a youngling testing her wings for the first time. Yet she was an adult. He quietly watched in amusement as she shifted her feathered appendages. Then suddenly she snapped them out in a flurry of motion, overbalancing herself in an instant. He could not help the chuckle that rumble in his lungs as he fell the last few feet. He lighted upon the ground as skillfully as a swan. "Are you alright?" He asked, head cocked to one side. "That was quite a tumble! Did you hurt your wing?" he motioned to the one she had crushed beneath her. Though capable of carrying a horse through the heavens, wings were fragile. He was worried that she may have hurt one in her fall. If so he was more than capable of helping to heal it. Though she looked more flustered than in pain. "Is this your first time trying to fly?" He made no move to close the gap between them, yet. Ever polite and conscious of personal space and people's potential fear of him. He was a roving pin cushion with fangs, after all. Add his armor and cloak and he could cut a rather intimidating figure. Though his eyes did not hold the light of a killer. "Talk." cursed to hold a weight you can't bear and still standing not because you can — but because you have to

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@Ahlora