She seems saddened, or dismayed, as she stands next to him. He notices this, but she has not acted on it in a way that would be inconvenient to him, so he continues to ignore it. If she had known what was good for her, she would have left him alone in the meadow. For a moment his thoughts find their way to begin thinking about how she does not quite fit in with the landscape of Pangea, and wonders momentarily if that is why she is so disheartened at returning to the ugly grey of the shoreline.
He follows her as she moves forward without hesitation. The sand feels unfamiliar and foreign beneath his hooves, snorting with surprise at how it fell away as he walks. As they approach the shoreline, Maugrim’s head was fully erect and his nostrils flare pink. The scent of salt and dry seaweed stings as he inhales, the sound of the gloomy waves breaking hard against the grey sand loud in his ears. He realizes that she is already in the water, the spray frothing around her legs. She speaks to him, though her voice is absent and dull. Her mind is elsewhere, but Maugrim doesn’t care. Her words that were meant to be advice fell on deaf ears.
Maugrim could feel a churning in his chest, a pull from the ocean’s powerful rhythm. He joins Azazelle confidently, and even walks out a bit more than she, hungry to feel the strength and power from the tide’s pull. The water sucks at his legs, encouraging him to go deeper and submerge. He refrains, eyes rolling wildly with excitement, nostrils quivering. The young stallion holds his breath for a moment as a wave splashes against his legs so strongly that the spray hits the upper part of his neck and face. Without a thought (and without acknowledgement to Azazelle), he focuses himself onto the water. The grey and brooding waters churn in defiance, though Maugrim’s grip was relentless. The adrenaline pumping through his veins was enough to give him more strength than he had before.
Slowly and gracefully, a thin spiral of ocean water appears. It pulls itself from the waves as the rest rush past it, spinning upwards and upwards in a gentle, rhythmic twist; much like a charmed cobra swaying to the sound of a flute. It continues to grow, malleable and whimsical beneath Maugrim’s intense stare. He’s smiling breathlessly, content and happy.
The colt begins to feel weary as he continues to try and control the water before him and before long, with a single exhale, the spiral of water falls back into the ocean and continues its natural rhythm against the shoreline. Maugrim’s eyes close, inhaling deeply the smell of the ocean before him.
He was home.
He didn’t even care to think about if there was someone who ruled over this land or this ocean. In his mind, it was his now.
m a u g r i m.
@[Azazelle]
So so sorry for such a long wait for this! Life has been crazy. <3 Also, I'm thinking that although Maugrim doesn't want any friends, that they can somehow start connecting over their love of water. Maybe she says something that he relates to and so he suddenly isn't so bristly and gruff. :3 Idk!