07-21-2018, 10:42 AM
Leilan
Your beauty is beyond compare -
oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
oh, if I could hear but one song from you
I shall hail thee Queen of Birds...
He grazes absentmindedly. It’s spring again, and hehardly pays attention to what he sees this year - mothers with young foals, mostly. He’s one of the few stallions that dare walk between the many mares. Some of which might not have wanted their babies, so he gets that there is an occasional cold eye. Then there’s those fearing he might hurt their foals - for some reason, they always fear a large stallion near a bunch of baby horses but perhaps that is just an innate thing, to see a large draft-like hybrid warrior-trained horse and think him a threat. Whether it’s true or, as in his case, not.
He moves through the crowds slowly. Stopping every now and then to let a running foal or yearling pass as they chase another kid. He stands out like a white horse in a herd of black ones, but he can’t really care.
He wonders how Breckin is doing. She’d been hurt but only the fairies would know why. And he wonders about Briseis. Their union last fall had been hormone-based, which was a perfect recipe for disaster. He can only hope that the black mare is all right, but doesn’t dare go back to ask. Or maybe, in a while, he could lurk around the border to see. Not that he really wants her as his mate but, there’s just the vague inkling, sparked by his quest to join the brothers and the visions he’d had, and he wants to make sure.
He needs a distraction. Almost run into by another foal, he shakes his head and moves to the sides of the field, or at least if there is a side, it’s mostly marked by the edge of the mare-herd. There, he finds more horses, but scattered, because like him they came alone.
His eyes search them. One stands out in particular, a mare. Not because of her looks - dark sooty bay is pretty but not as unusual as having gold on you for example - but because she looks absent. ”Hello there, lovely. How are you doing?” he asks her.
He moves through the crowds slowly. Stopping every now and then to let a running foal or yearling pass as they chase another kid. He stands out like a white horse in a herd of black ones, but he can’t really care.
He wonders how Breckin is doing. She’d been hurt but only the fairies would know why. And he wonders about Briseis. Their union last fall had been hormone-based, which was a perfect recipe for disaster. He can only hope that the black mare is all right, but doesn’t dare go back to ask. Or maybe, in a while, he could lurk around the border to see. Not that he really wants her as his mate but, there’s just the vague inkling, sparked by his quest to join the brothers and the visions he’d had, and he wants to make sure.
He needs a distraction. Almost run into by another foal, he shakes his head and moves to the sides of the field, or at least if there is a side, it’s mostly marked by the edge of the mare-herd. There, he finds more horses, but scattered, because like him they came alone.
His eyes search them. One stands out in particular, a mare. Not because of her looks - dark sooty bay is pretty but not as unusual as having gold on you for example - but because she looks absent. ”Hello there, lovely. How are you doing?” he asks her.
there's something here that doesn't make sense
let's go and poke it with a stick
let's go and poke it with a stick
@[Roseen] Not relationship material but good for talks and pointing in a direction, should you want some. Also good for heart-breaking before meeting the right guy, but not sure if you want any of that
.
Two things I know I can make: pretty kids, and people mad.
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