((note: Alfor's canon point is basically the golden age of the original paladins when they're out defending the galaxy with Voltron, pre-everything-goes-to-hell-thanks-zarkon time))
[ i. what goes up ]
...huh.
[That, for a moment, is the totality of Alfor's reaction to seeing... well... Honestly he has no frame of reference to even begin to put a name to what he's seeing. For now his brain settles on face monster. The Altean looks oddly mesmerized, as if he's trying to puzzle out how his subconscious has come up with this particular terror, standing still and staring up at it.
Dreams are strange, but seldom this strange.
It's about now that he realizes the thing is coming closer, rapidly, and that he probably ought to move. So he does, running and barely diving out of the thing's path and into a small measure of concealing underbrush, but not before catching a glimpse of the mouth. His bayard is in his hand. His paladin armor isn't exactly good for camouflage however, so his hiding place offers little cover.
It's good enough cover, however, that he's not the thing's target any longer. That's less than reassuring when he catches sight of someone who is. The Altean king is already in motion, so please don't mind what amounts to being grabbed -- politely, but with little room for argument -- and pulled immediately into a sprint.] You'll have to excuse me, but we need to be running.
[Now.]
[ ii. must come down ]
[It's not a dream. It's a nightmare. And despite a few successful dodges, well, eventually Alfor finds himself caught by the monstrosity and then summarily expelled into the air like a red and black and white missile. He fires the armor's jet pack to stabilize, right himself, and he mostly manages to at least stop tumbling end over end in the moment before he strikes the ground and goes skidding by. Or straight into someone if they're that unlucky.]
That... did not go exactly as planned.
[Help? Please?]
[ iii. cooling off ]
[Is it just Alfor, or did the weather turn rather quickly? His armor is equipped for deep space travel, so he's not exactly worried about the chill. But the snow, now that's interesting. He's been to planets made entirely of ice, but the gentle fall of snowflakes like this (even if the intensity does seem to be picking up) is somewhat new. Novel. He wouldn't know the term snow-globe, but that doesn't make the scene any less fascinating.
Enough that he removes his helmet for a better look, holding up a gloved hand to catch a number of snowflakes in his palm.]
It's really quite beautiful, isn't it?
[It's a quiet remark, really to no one in particular.]
[ iv. wildcard ]
[Something else? Hit me with your best shot. Or poke me at seasided if you want to discuss!]
Alfor | Voltron: Legendary Defender
[ i. what goes up ]
...huh.
[That, for a moment, is the totality of Alfor's reaction to seeing... well... Honestly he has no frame of reference to even begin to put a name to what he's seeing. For now his brain settles on face monster. The Altean looks oddly mesmerized, as if he's trying to puzzle out how his subconscious has come up with this particular terror, standing still and staring up at it.
Dreams are strange, but seldom this strange.
It's about now that he realizes the thing is coming closer, rapidly, and that he probably ought to move. So he does, running and barely diving out of the thing's path and into a small measure of concealing underbrush, but not before catching a glimpse of the mouth. His bayard is in his hand. His paladin armor isn't exactly good for camouflage however, so his hiding place offers little cover.
It's good enough cover, however, that he's not the thing's target any longer. That's less than reassuring when he catches sight of someone who is. The Altean king is already in motion, so please don't mind what amounts to being grabbed -- politely, but with little room for argument -- and pulled immediately into a sprint.] You'll have to excuse me, but we need to be running.
[Now.]
[ ii. must come down ]
[It's not a dream. It's a nightmare. And despite a few successful dodges, well, eventually Alfor finds himself caught by the monstrosity and then summarily expelled into the air like a red and black and white missile. He fires the armor's jet pack to stabilize, right himself, and he mostly manages to at least stop tumbling end over end in the moment before he strikes the ground and goes skidding by. Or straight into someone if they're that unlucky.]
That... did not go exactly as planned.
[Help? Please?]
[ iii. cooling off ]
[Is it just Alfor, or did the weather turn rather quickly? His armor is equipped for deep space travel, so he's not exactly worried about the chill. But the snow, now that's interesting. He's been to planets made entirely of ice, but the gentle fall of snowflakes like this (even if the intensity does seem to be picking up) is somewhat new. Novel. He wouldn't know the term snow-globe, but that doesn't make the scene any less fascinating.
Enough that he removes his helmet for a better look, holding up a gloved hand to catch a number of snowflakes in his palm.]
It's really quite beautiful, isn't it?
[It's a quiet remark, really to no one in particular.]
[ iv. wildcard ]
[Something else? Hit me with your best shot. Or poke me at