He should have kept moving. The moment that Popinjay comes at him, young and petite as she is, all he sees is the flash of white and the way her little head snakes forward. When she is grown, there is no question in his mind that she will have the capability of being a fearsome mare. But for now, she is little enough that all Kildare can do is stare at her, his green eyes looking irritated as soon as his shock passes. She comes at him with all the enthusiasm of a small child being denied a treat and Kildare wonders why he finds himself in the company of infants so often. (In all of his youthful insight, Kildare will tell anyone who asks that he is almost grown at a whole two years of age.)
His ears lace for a moment before he decides there is no need for that kind of behavior. A snort comes from this black muzzle and Kildare gives his head a slight toss, ebony waves tossing and dancing in the summer breeze. Before he can give Popinjay a few words on sharing, the tiny filly from below him speaks. He casts a wary emerald-eyed gaze below him, carefully watching her. Concern shows around the corners of his eyes, in the way he presses his mouth into a firm line. He can hear her chirping, exclaiming her protests about not wanting to be touched and Kildare is more than happy to oblige. While his head lowers and his ears prick forward to hear her, he is content to keep his face a comfortable distance from her rabbit-sized form.
He watches Morgayne, torn between being fascinated and alarmed.
Tiny girl has a name and she protests it, indignant about referred as a thing. It is here that Kildare has to admire her. No bigger than a rabbit, something that should terrify anybody in their right mind and here she was - making demands and protestations. Whatever alarm he has is fading away and is instead replaced with a lopsided grin, broadening the more she speaks. He looks back to Popinjay who makes her way forcefully forward and Kildare almost laughs. "Easy there, killer," he quips. The filly halts in front of him and Kildare turns his attention to the sky above, briefly trying to find the winged offender that Morgayne herself was searching for.
He finds it empty (as far as he could tell anyways) of predatory birds and looks down to the miniature filly as she backs up to a stone, peering upwards at him and Popinjay. "I can't see anything," he says with an almost perceptible shrug. He's never taken much notice of birds before. "Kildare," he offers to both the fillies, looking from Popinjay back down to Morgayne. "Why are you out here alone?" he asks pointedly to Popinjay (at two, he assumes the role of responsibility) before turning his attention back to the other. "And why are you so small?"
@[Popinjay] @[Morgayne]
His ears lace for a moment before he decides there is no need for that kind of behavior. A snort comes from this black muzzle and Kildare gives his head a slight toss, ebony waves tossing and dancing in the summer breeze. Before he can give Popinjay a few words on sharing, the tiny filly from below him speaks. He casts a wary emerald-eyed gaze below him, carefully watching her. Concern shows around the corners of his eyes, in the way he presses his mouth into a firm line. He can hear her chirping, exclaiming her protests about not wanting to be touched and Kildare is more than happy to oblige. While his head lowers and his ears prick forward to hear her, he is content to keep his face a comfortable distance from her rabbit-sized form.
He watches Morgayne, torn between being fascinated and alarmed.
Tiny girl has a name and she protests it, indignant about referred as a thing. It is here that Kildare has to admire her. No bigger than a rabbit, something that should terrify anybody in their right mind and here she was - making demands and protestations. Whatever alarm he has is fading away and is instead replaced with a lopsided grin, broadening the more she speaks. He looks back to Popinjay who makes her way forcefully forward and Kildare almost laughs. "Easy there, killer," he quips. The filly halts in front of him and Kildare turns his attention to the sky above, briefly trying to find the winged offender that Morgayne herself was searching for.
He finds it empty (as far as he could tell anyways) of predatory birds and looks down to the miniature filly as she backs up to a stone, peering upwards at him and Popinjay. "I can't see anything," he says with an almost perceptible shrug. He's never taken much notice of birds before. "Kildare," he offers to both the fillies, looking from Popinjay back down to Morgayne. "Why are you out here alone?" he asks pointedly to Popinjay (at two, he assumes the role of responsibility) before turning his attention back to the other. "And why are you so small?"
@[Popinjay] @[Morgayne]