Matador, estocada, you're my blood sport (kingdoms except tundra and 'zons, sowz :( )

[Emberly]

ashen haired, forest green 
beqanna's make-up qween
marijuana x slaybell

The was no true north. No destination to the endless walk through Beqanna. Emberly simply walks onward with no purpose but to simply blow in on the cool winds of winter. She has no agenda, nor plans to gain one, as she ventures into the field. The threat of autumn alleviates the burden of breeding threats. The stallions would be clear headed enough to approach the emerald mare without much drive from testosterone (though there still was the chance of a force claim) but she takes the chance. Sea green pools examine her temporary holdings with mild interest when a stifled yawn slips from between the ruby lips. Slender limbs move her away from the open tear of sky where fat snowflakes begins to drift drunkenly downward, sticking against the light ash of her mane. Pale eyes flicks upward and her tips turn downward in a slight annoyed frown. Hopefully some one would spot the green mare and extend the invitation of their home. emberly

it's short but i hate intro posts :/ they will get better /crosses heart

[eskil]

It has been an entire day and night since the change of beqanna had taken place and with his descent, the curly haired stallion had immediately made the choice to start rounding up numbers. It was now a time that required great resilience and patience from the entirety of Beqanna as she had finally struck down upon their greediness and insane desires. As he had grown, the curly haired stallion had been taught best that survival came in numbers and that is what he was focusing on most now. He wanted to survive, to be successful. He didn't care if his name was known, or if the whole of Beqanna barely knew his face. He simply wanted to live and not be alone.

So in response he finds himself staying the night in the field, searching for an interesting face to try and convince to follow him. He knows it won't be easy, especially with the recent changes. Yet he does his best to remain confident, to not step away from his plan. It was then he sees her, the green colored mare, as she steps through the lush grass that just almost matched her color. With a nod of his head in silent approval, the poodle-like stallion steps forward and heads in her direction slowly. He approaches from where she can see him easily and only stops when he is a safe enough distance away that she feels comfortable, keeping his body relaxed and making sure his movements are slow so as not to make her feel threatened. "You are quite an interesting color," he jokes softly. "My name is Eskil. May I ask for yours?"

@[Emberly]