10-20-2020, 12:43 PM
ridiculous
do you think I’m funny?
Ridiculous was genuinely saddened to learn of Astra’s mother and her inability to touch her own child, but he does his best not to dwell on that, lest poor Astra be forced to choke on his sadness as well. He puts a smile on his face instead. “Well, at least you had Isilya, and at least your mother cared for you enough to not put you through that. Isilya sounds nice. Was she like a mother to you, too? That’s pretty cool that you had two mothers in a way!”
If she had laughed at him, Ridiculous would not have been offended. In fact, the idea that she thinks he is a good dancer is quite laughable, because he really is not. He is big and clumsy and a giant oaf. Just after she says that he is a good dancer, he indeed manages to trip over his own hooves and falls with quite a large crash to the ground. Embarrassed, he scrambles back to his hooves, and if he hadn’t been chestnut in color already, his cheeks might have betrayed his embarrassment. Granted, a flush in his face wasn’t what would give it away to this little filly.
He laughs off the fall and quickly stifles the embarrassment. “Well, Astra, that is quite nice of you to say, but truth be told, I even know that I am not a good dancer.” His laughter rings out into the cool, crisp evening air. Thankfully, he has stopped dancing. “I taught myself everything I know, actually. You can probably tell!” Despite how bad he is at dancing, he is quite proud of himself for his skills. He had to be, because he wasn’t technically good at anything, even his own gift of temporal manipulation–it’s a wonder he didn’t shoot them clear into next week when he showed her his gift! If he didn’t take pride in what he could do, then he would be a very unhappy stallion, but despite his ineptitudes, he manages to be one of the happiest horses he had met.
As he stands there, he looks Astra over curiously. “You are quite interesting, Astra,” he says with a grin. “From your unusual coloring to your wonderful personality. How did you get your unusual coloring?” Ridiculous had come from a completely different Beqanna than Astra had. He was born a regular old chestnut coloring, his mother was black, and his father was grey. In the Beqanna he came from, that wasn’t unusual. But now, looking around, he realizes that unusual coloring had become the norm. It made him curious. Where did all the colors come from?
If she had laughed at him, Ridiculous would not have been offended. In fact, the idea that she thinks he is a good dancer is quite laughable, because he really is not. He is big and clumsy and a giant oaf. Just after she says that he is a good dancer, he indeed manages to trip over his own hooves and falls with quite a large crash to the ground. Embarrassed, he scrambles back to his hooves, and if he hadn’t been chestnut in color already, his cheeks might have betrayed his embarrassment. Granted, a flush in his face wasn’t what would give it away to this little filly.
He laughs off the fall and quickly stifles the embarrassment. “Well, Astra, that is quite nice of you to say, but truth be told, I even know that I am not a good dancer.” His laughter rings out into the cool, crisp evening air. Thankfully, he has stopped dancing. “I taught myself everything I know, actually. You can probably tell!” Despite how bad he is at dancing, he is quite proud of himself for his skills. He had to be, because he wasn’t technically good at anything, even his own gift of temporal manipulation–it’s a wonder he didn’t shoot them clear into next week when he showed her his gift! If he didn’t take pride in what he could do, then he would be a very unhappy stallion, but despite his ineptitudes, he manages to be one of the happiest horses he had met.
As he stands there, he looks Astra over curiously. “You are quite interesting, Astra,” he says with a grin. “From your unusual coloring to your wonderful personality. How did you get your unusual coloring?” Ridiculous had come from a completely different Beqanna than Astra had. He was born a regular old chestnut coloring, his mother was black, and his father was grey. In the Beqanna he came from, that wasn’t unusual. But now, looking around, he realizes that unusual coloring had become the norm. It made him curious. Where did all the colors come from?
@[Astra]