We were there, You and I.

_{I've seen laughing, at terrible places.
I've seen heavenly signs, at ruined squares.
So much weeping, protective embraces.
we were there, you and i.}

---

The quiet, regal stag made no sound as he treaded towards his designated patrol area. His stalker, however, was not so gifted. She did try, of course, but her Achilles heel had always been her coordination. Every few strides or so there would be a rustle, crunch, or thud as she scrambled on behind him, not nearly far enough away for him not to hear.

Rustle.

He dared a small smile and continued on his way, humoring just a moment longer. They had been together for almost a season now, but it felt like years, his heart wrenching any time he thought that someone might have just given up on her, discarded her like rubbish. No, it must have been a tragic separation; he refused to believe any other solution. Blackwood was so foul, he would not be surprised in the slightest. Already he had nightmares about one stealing her off in the middle of the night.

Crunch.

He was rather young to be a father, but then again he hadn’t exactly planned on her. Had he been more of a womanizer, he would have taken advantage of the sympathy pull that being a single dad had on the does. However he was a more resigned stag, and she was his only constant companion.

Another rustle.

She gave him plenty of worry of course. He would often find her beyond the border, the lure of Blackwood only deepening his fear. No matter the amount of scolding he gave, she would always venture out. It had only been recently that she started following him on his patrols, and while he didn’t approve, it was better than having her wandering off where his imagination ran wild with all the horrible possibilities.

A giggle.

The silvered stag whirled, springing towards the sound and pinning the source between his forelegs. ”What have I said about following me out on patrol?” His voice was loud and stern but his eyes were soft and his ears pricked forward towards the little perlino who rolled onto her back to gaze up at him with those blue eyes that he could never be truly angry with. “Sybil, you could easily be harmed out here.”

“Not when I have you to protect me!” His baby cooed, looking completely pleased with herself even as she lay red handed. “And I’ll protect you.”

In that moment he knew he had never loved anyone so much.

---

Name: Tristan
Gender: Stag
Age: 8 years
Height: 11.2 h
Type: More on the heavy side, but not the biggest stag in the bunch.
Use: Western Isles Rp

Colour: Silver Dapple Fawn
Genotype: EE/aa/nZ/fwfw/nRx
Bloodlines: Foundation

Affiliation: Glenmore
Position: Royal Guard
Mate: n/a
Current Location: Glenwood

Temperment:

Tristan is a quiet, reserved stag that is pure of heart. He blushes easily, he doesn’t always get sarcasm, but he is not shy, nor is he cowardly. While he dislikes conflict, he will not run from combat. Brave, gallant, he loves Glenmore, even if he doesn’t agree with several of its customs. It is very rare to see him out of his perfect soldier shell, but Sybil is slowly teaching him how to loosen up a bit and laugh more with her.

History:

Born from a pair of Royals, Tristan began his training to become a Royal Guard like his father before him at an early age. His father taught him his values, the meaning of honor and bravery, while his mother filled his head with gossip from the herd and stories from the other lands. She was a shallow doe, taking her bitterness about not being bred to be a Princess doe, and how she was slighted by fate to be a smoky black fawn instead of palomino out on her son. She hated his ‘garish’ white crest, telling him how she couldn’t at least have a dark colored son like one of the King’s line. His father of course, told him it was a mark from Óganach, that he would be a beacon of light for those in need.

Tristan didn’t realize how true his father’s words would become. Years later, his father having passed away and his mother mated to a new stag, he remained, alone except for his duties. He had no quarrel with it, but when he found the tiny perlino doe fawn wandering alone just along the Red River, his entire world changed.

Initially, he assumed the little one was lost, and simply needed to find her mother again. So he guided around with her, asking the does and Princess does who the fawn belonged to. Receiving no claim, Tristan began worrying that there were more nefarious reasons as to why the fawn could not find her mother.

Blackwood stole does from Glenmore just as easily as they stole from Silverthorne. He knew this was the only possible solution, that in the night, a Blackwood stag came to steal the mother, and rather than scream out for help and wake her daughter, she went quietly so the stag would not notice the little fawn’s presence.

He took her under his wing as his own, teaching her the values that his father had taught him. She has made him fiercely protective of her, willing to walk through fire, or charge into Blackwood for her. He is still young, so his history is not long, but he is a kindhearted, pure stag that doesn’t complain about any of his misfortunes, because he knows they could be much worse.

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I know it’s ludicrous to be trying for this stag. Why go for the one that everyone is trying for, when there are plenty of other designs that don’t have a single entry yet!? Well, I had started this before he had any entries, and when I tried to recolor it as another stag, it just felt really wrong. And another design would mean another personality, where to me, this just fits.

Thank you everyone who critiqued/redlined this for me, this would be a completely different piece without you.

WIP:
Also featuring:
Texture:
Original Design:

Art © Brindletail