I'M NOT SOME BOY THAT YOU CAN SWAY
Rapscallion doesn't find the sky to illuminate the darkness in him, he doesn't pay attention to the butterflies, the light airy demeanor of all those who live alongside him. Rapscallion is observant but lately he's been lost in selfishness, maybe even guilt. He doesn't recall his birth home, he remembers his mother taking him all across Beqanna and schooling him. His childhood was learning about political links, fighting, and to always brush off words.
He was taught to be melancholy at best.
Rapscallion was not so self-absorbed that he failed to notice the silver male approach the border, he watched his eyes light up with excitement from meters away. The buckskin never knew what that felt like, to him it seemed almost a manic phase. The most excited he's been was when he thought the ex-Tundra king would actually fight for his position; he was mistaken. He had recently visited the Amazons and although he knew men did not live there, this silver male still lingered of there. There was a lack of a true winter coat and a sheen to his coat that being in constant sun does to bleach the hairs so to speak. Rapscallion approaches slowly, his head down to lazily snag a few pieces of sparse grass, while his pale green eyes were constantly peeled on the newcomer. Hell, he was a newcomer himself - unnoticed and unbothered. Soon, the tall buckskin makes he way closer to him and his ears stand at full attention, he blows his matted forelock to the side, "Rapscallion. Behold, the glorious Gates," he says in a show-host tone except lacking the excitement. Rapscallion was not trying to discredit his newfound place of residence he was simply playing on the boy's obvious excitement. If he couldn't be excited, he would at least help play to someone else's emotions.