04-07-2015, 09:08 PM
Though Texas had been born at the seaside in a herd land under the jurisdiction of the Chamber of Evil, the bay stallion is not sure that he has ever actually set hoof in the kingdom. He probably has, in some war or other, but the precise memory escapes him. The path he walks is, for all intents and purposes, a brand new one.
It’s high noon, though the lanky stallion is shielded from the sun by a thick canopy of pine trees. He’s nearly at the border of the kingdom (the scent of horses is growing stronger) so he stops for a moment. For a moment he considers a nap, or perhaps looking for any nearby water, but just as quickly changes his mind and moves forward to stand at the edge of the kingdom.
He can see some movement through the trees, and narrows his brown eyes to get a better look. He can see nothing distinct from this distance though, and after a while he abandons his pursuit with a shake of his head. The motion causes his thick mane to fall across his eyes and he huffs irritably. Texas is slightly vainer than the average horse, and though he is usually covered in various bits of grass and mud up to his ankles, he had made an effort today. Or that might have been yesterday. Well, sometime in the past week. Anyway.
He’d rolled around in the waterfall for a while to get off the worst of the dirt, so he is clearly a dark a bay stallion with fewer than the average number of cuts and scars than is typical in a wild stallion. Fewer as in none, but it is not the immortal’s fault that his inherited gift came along with the somewhat bothersome trick of healing without visible scars. He carries the smell of the Falls, and his black mane is streaked with grey. Texas' dark face is starting to look grizzled despite his otherwise “in his prime” appearance. He lacks the so deep it’s obvious he’s immortal look in his dark eyes, instead he looks a little curious and a little devious. That is to say, he looks much the same as he does any other day (maybe a little cleaner).
It’s high noon, though the lanky stallion is shielded from the sun by a thick canopy of pine trees. He’s nearly at the border of the kingdom (the scent of horses is growing stronger) so he stops for a moment. For a moment he considers a nap, or perhaps looking for any nearby water, but just as quickly changes his mind and moves forward to stand at the edge of the kingdom.
He can see some movement through the trees, and narrows his brown eyes to get a better look. He can see nothing distinct from this distance though, and after a while he abandons his pursuit with a shake of his head. The motion causes his thick mane to fall across his eyes and he huffs irritably. Texas is slightly vainer than the average horse, and though he is usually covered in various bits of grass and mud up to his ankles, he had made an effort today. Or that might have been yesterday. Well, sometime in the past week. Anyway.
He’d rolled around in the waterfall for a while to get off the worst of the dirt, so he is clearly a dark a bay stallion with fewer than the average number of cuts and scars than is typical in a wild stallion. Fewer as in none, but it is not the immortal’s fault that his inherited gift came along with the somewhat bothersome trick of healing without visible scars. He carries the smell of the Falls, and his black mane is streaked with grey. Texas' dark face is starting to look grizzled despite his otherwise “in his prime” appearance. He lacks the so deep it’s obvious he’s immortal look in his dark eyes, instead he looks a little curious and a little devious. That is to say, he looks much the same as he does any other day (maybe a little cleaner).
T E X A S
immortal silver bay hybrid stallion
king of the falls