paint it black; teal

[Lior]

dark son of gunsynd

He remains unchanged in stature and in demeanor. The blind mare is spooked by his actions but it does not move him in either way. Her small squawk of surprise only warrants a slow blink from his as his nostrils expand to take in her scent. She trembles before him, soundless still. She is a strange concept to him. Quiet, fragile, soundless. She is unlike most women he had ever encountered and wonders briefly if she mute as well. "Mare?" He does not know what else to call her as he listens for her reply but instead she touches along his face, his neck. Lior does not flinch even after she knocks against the thickness of his skull. The dark stallion begins to understand the handicaps of the young mare. Other than blindness, she was  (he thinks) mute (he has still yet figured out that she is deaf). Pewter eyes gather the movement of her lips as they pull and purse. They mimic a desire to drink and he thinks he understands what she is trying for...attempting to communicate in her wordless efforts. Lior thinks about how to handle this situation with a bit more care. Typically he would have snatched at the base of her mane and lead her along to a source of water but already she is nervous and flighty so instead he attempts to drive her. The bulk of his head dips to press the mare's shoulder with his muzzle for a moment before his taller frame slides along her like a river of thick tar. He stands at her left, shoulder to hip before lowering his own head to take some her mane in between his lips and gives it the faintest -tug- before releasing the tuft. He grunts, a rumbling in his depths, as to signal his desire to move. Heavy footfalls begin with a single step and another then he waits for her to mimic his actions. LIOR