Getting Acquainted [Morty, any]

[Jesper]

Although he has only been here a few days, the onyx stallion feels as though he belongs. The army of walnut, beech, and hickory trees, offer protection. The fiery canopy may keep out the daystar; however, raven pelt reflects a golden glow cast from the hues of the foliage. Of course, with winter upon Beqanna, the day was shorter and darker. Jesper steps lightly upon the stiff terrain as he begins to explore Sylva. Leanly muscled haunches push limbs forward in an easy walk while ebony tendrils cascade passively down to rear fetlocks. Level topline slopes into round barrel and peaks at narrow withers. Elegantly, arched neck positions poll above withers with sable mane draped over gently sloping shoulder. Steady pace continues until Jesper draws alongside a massive boulder. Unshod hooves align as limbs cease motion and bronc draws to a halt to its left. Pivoting to his right, he backs up until rump is against the cold, hard stone. Male shifts weight from left to right and then, back again, as he sates an impromptu itch. Long-lashed lids close over light blue eyes while Jesper leans into the structure. Tufted lobes remain alert atop poll, swiveling with near-radar intelligence.

@[Modicum Mortem]

[Modicum Mortem]

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I'm every nightmare you've ever had,
 I'm your worst dream come true.

Winter in Beqanna was upon him, and Modicum would be lying if he said he wasn't thrilled. Thrills didn't come often to the ebony stallion, but when he felt the cold air blow through his mane, he couldn't help but grow excited.

He enjoyed the darkness of winter, he enjoyed the crisp, freezing air. His lineage traced back to ponies that lived and breathed icy cold, and his coat had grown full and fluffy to show for it. His thick mane was long, keeping him warm on even the most chilly of days. 

He slithered through the forest easily - he had lived her long before many of these...other horses had come here, so he knows it well. White clouds billow out from his nose as he breathes; he keeps a steady trot as he maneuvers through the foliage and trees. He comes to an abrupt halt when he hears another around him - dark ears swivel back and forth until he find which direction it had come from. He grins mischievously.

This could be fun...

He takes a sharp left, resuming his trot until he smells the other stallion nearby, to which he slows to a nearly undetectable walk (he's always been quite good at silent stalking). He sees a group of closely packed trees and moves behind them, looking to the other onyx stallion in front of him.

"I haven't seen you around here before." 

Modicum Mortem

@[Jesper]

[Jesper]

Relief could not come soon enough for the onyx painted Arabian-type equine. Weight shifts back and forth as rump and dock rub against the giant stone. Short layer of wire-type tresses bend askew from the pressure against this cold, hard surface. Lobes rotate in a frenzy with each whoosh of winter’s whip as it churns the fallen foliage and, snaps against his pelt. Despite not having much of a fur coat, the cold did not bother him much. Jesper continues to scratch his itch until acute acoustics pick-up more than just the wind. That voice sent chills down his spine and, in an instant, relief mission vanishes from his agenda. Chassis tenses and limbs stiffen as ears lock on the origin of the words. The words were perfectly harmless; however, the manner in which they reach him – tossed about in a perfectly timed squall of air – set off several red flags in Jesper’s head.
 
Mass shifts off boulder and, redistributes over all four limbs. Raven bronc now stands erect and, on edge, as sky blue orbs focus on the scene before him. He searches for the other being among the tightly packed trees with no success. Cardiac muscle pulses stronger and, respiratory organs expand deeply to expel dramatic puffs from wide nares. Finally, vocal chords thrum together a few words, in a voice that waivers ever so slightly. “I haven’t lived here long.” Gaze continues to search for the invisible speaker while Jesper ponders what might become of this interaction. Some might argue that the great, big unknown is one of the greatest fears. He would not run, but every fiber of his being tells him not to stay.

@[Modicum Mortem]