07-27-2019, 08:55 AM
Aodhán
ice and fire
All that is gold does not glitter; not all who wander are lost
Bored, he’d started grazing - no-one seemed willing to make a show for it. Sure, he could make this his home; but the young stallion seems uncertain how exactly. If there’s no-one to report to, then the road to living anywhere seems to be to just walk in. He did that, but it seems unfinished still.
He could call out on the plains; if no-one showed there it would be his to take, and then, of course, to fill. This place needed more than just sitting around. And if they did show, perhaps they could work it out. He has no real interest to fight anyone or take away their home, but the emptiness of the ghost-land is too vast for him to ignore. It itches, in a way. So either the leader does something, or he will. He’s not one to sit still, after all.
The male who approaches him now is slightly taller than Aodhán himself (courtesy to his mother he supposes), but he is definitely not this place’s leader. He smells of Loess, of fire and ash, and nothing like the mare’s scent he had picked up on the first day of spring, but which he could not find. So, being observed so closely, knowing the man probably actually didn’t live here, whoever he was - the mismatched gaze was matched with a gleaming emerald stare, as much bright and open as the man is scrutinizing and narrowing his. A shrug follows. ”I’m Aodhán.” And as the winged tobiano had not given him a title, he was fine with not giving much of an explanation either.
Interesting, was what the man was - but not interesting enough to try and win a staring competition. The baroque white wasn’t so much for dominance, hence he’d found the only land known to be a herd, to make his home in - no need to get involved with kingdoms as long as it was left alone to live peacefully.
Instead of staring at Castile, he now looked around the emptiness with a sad expression, asking his questions to the first face that he had seen in this place since arriving. ”Do you know who lives here? It feels so empty, and I’ve been calling all season. I don’t think that’s right for this place. Don’t you think these fields need people to admire them? Children to play in?” Looking back at the tobiano, he frowns a little - clearly whatever happened here doesn’t sit well with the white-and-gold hybrid.
A thought occurs, perhaps she had been chased away by this man? He seemed capable of it in a way; an air of confidence surrounded him, like he could beat anyone he wished. If it was true or not, the spotted stallion wasn’t sure. But then again, he himself hadn’t tried yet either, and he had no mercy for bullies.
He could call out on the plains; if no-one showed there it would be his to take, and then, of course, to fill. This place needed more than just sitting around. And if they did show, perhaps they could work it out. He has no real interest to fight anyone or take away their home, but the emptiness of the ghost-land is too vast for him to ignore. It itches, in a way. So either the leader does something, or he will. He’s not one to sit still, after all.
The male who approaches him now is slightly taller than Aodhán himself (courtesy to his mother he supposes), but he is definitely not this place’s leader. He smells of Loess, of fire and ash, and nothing like the mare’s scent he had picked up on the first day of spring, but which he could not find. So, being observed so closely, knowing the man probably actually didn’t live here, whoever he was - the mismatched gaze was matched with a gleaming emerald stare, as much bright and open as the man is scrutinizing and narrowing his. A shrug follows. ”I’m Aodhán.” And as the winged tobiano had not given him a title, he was fine with not giving much of an explanation either.
Interesting, was what the man was - but not interesting enough to try and win a staring competition. The baroque white wasn’t so much for dominance, hence he’d found the only land known to be a herd, to make his home in - no need to get involved with kingdoms as long as it was left alone to live peacefully.
Instead of staring at Castile, he now looked around the emptiness with a sad expression, asking his questions to the first face that he had seen in this place since arriving. ”Do you know who lives here? It feels so empty, and I’ve been calling all season. I don’t think that’s right for this place. Don’t you think these fields need people to admire them? Children to play in?” Looking back at the tobiano, he frowns a little - clearly whatever happened here doesn’t sit well with the white-and-gold hybrid.
A thought occurs, perhaps she had been chased away by this man? He seemed capable of it in a way; an air of confidence surrounded him, like he could beat anyone he wished. If it was true or not, the spotted stallion wasn’t sure. But then again, he himself hadn’t tried yet either, and he had no mercy for bullies.
@[Castile]