[open] into the amber (any)

[Raed]

I’ll break you a hundred different ways and I’ll make you remember my face - - - The last time he tried to meander through the meadow he was forced into an almost-altercation with Leilan. He hadnt meant to stand between the roan stallion and his vendetta against the plant life, but as luck would have it, there he had been. Of course since neither stallion had actually been keen on truly fighting it had dispersed on its own, thankfully, since while Raed was far from a pacifist  he also erred on the lazy side. If he wanted to spar he knew where to go for that; the meadow was meant for amusement and sometimes engaging conversation. Or in his case, standing off to the side and watching the coming and going’s. Beqanna has changed drastically in his lifetime, but the one thing that has remained the same is that the meadow seemed to be the heart of the lands. This was where the ghosts reappeared, haunting the hills and gasping back to life just when you thought they were gone for good. Under the velvet cloak of night he slips seamlessly through the meadowlands tall grass, his bright blue coat somewhat camouflaged by the shadows. Ever since the explosion of magic that had spewed across the lands, he was no longer an oddity. Vibrant colors, grand wings, and whatever else the fairies could vomit up could be seen on nearly every horse, to the point it was almost nauseating. The only thing it did was relieve him from their staring eyes. He remembers when he was born, and there had only been him, and the green stallion his mother doted on, and that other lavender stallion from the Tundra. For someone that kept to themselves he had despised always being stared at under their microscope. The plain mare stood out because of this. It was the moon glinting off her silvery mane that first caught his eye, but it was the look on her face that drew him towards her. It was a look he had seen often, and he does not have to delve into her mind to see what he already knew. ”You are from the times before,” His voice is flat, hardly raising or lowering in its pitch, but it rolls smooth like river water over rocks. ”I am too. My name is Raed.” R A E D the cerulean son of trashlip and ryatah

@[North]

Hi. Never getting rid of me.