Gale
01-16-2020, 06:44 PM
It is very easy for the brindle stallion to lose track of the seasons. Winter is not much different from summer in his temperate home. There are rainy seasons and drier months, but he has only lived there two years; catching the pattern is hard, and his fellow resort dwellers aren’t the most interested in tracking weather patterns or being interviewed about atypical rainfall. To satisfy his curiosity he’s chosen to come back to the mainland after years away, eager to see what he has missed.
The years have been good for the stallion. He’d left as a slab-sided adolescent, caked with red dirt, brambles thick in his yellow hair. He arrives in the Meadow still slightly damp from an early morning dip in a waveless cove. His upright mane, which grows along the entire length of his spine – ears to tail – is brilliantly white. Healthy muscle bunches below his iridescently blue and cream coat, and the white wings that he holds close to his body as he weaves through the tall grass are only recently folded from the flight that had brought him here. His eyes – bright and electric – flick across the field with interest. He does not know what he is looking for, but the first horse that he sees alone is a pale mare and so she is the one he approaches.
She is alone, so he approaches slowly and from the side, giving her plenty of time to casually wander away if she didn’t actually want to be talked to. Not everyone wants to talk, he reminds himself; sometimes it’s okay to be quiet.
“Hi!” he finally says when he is close enough. “I’m Blue.” The word he gives could be an adjective (he is undeniably sapphire in coloration), but he says it like the name it is. It’s the name he’d chosen in the absence of his true name, and even now that he has begun to suspect who he is, he still uses Blue. Staying a comfortable distance away from her, Blue offers a friendly smile. “What’s your name?”
@[Gloariana]
The years have been good for the stallion. He’d left as a slab-sided adolescent, caked with red dirt, brambles thick in his yellow hair. He arrives in the Meadow still slightly damp from an early morning dip in a waveless cove. His upright mane, which grows along the entire length of his spine – ears to tail – is brilliantly white. Healthy muscle bunches below his iridescently blue and cream coat, and the white wings that he holds close to his body as he weaves through the tall grass are only recently folded from the flight that had brought him here. His eyes – bright and electric – flick across the field with interest. He does not know what he is looking for, but the first horse that he sees alone is a pale mare and so she is the one he approaches.
She is alone, so he approaches slowly and from the side, giving her plenty of time to casually wander away if she didn’t actually want to be talked to. Not everyone wants to talk, he reminds himself; sometimes it’s okay to be quiet.
“Hi!” he finally says when he is close enough. “I’m Blue.” The word he gives could be an adjective (he is undeniably sapphire in coloration), but he says it like the name it is. It’s the name he’d chosen in the absence of his true name, and even now that he has begun to suspect who he is, he still uses Blue. Staying a comfortable distance away from her, Blue offers a friendly smile. “What’s your name?”
@[Gloariana]