04-13-2021, 08:26 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-13-2021, 08:26 PM by Osiriis.
Edit Reason: Tag
)
He didn’t belong anywhere, not really. He was born, and grew, in the Tephra jungle.. but was it really home anymore? How many years could one waste running borders he didn’t officially patrol? How many times could he find solace amongst its hidden treasures, specifically a cove that he liked to think of as his own. Lined with the most beautiful flora and shimmering rocks. The water always a luke warm temp, pleasant any time of the year.
His black and vermillion ombré coat slicked with sweat from the mid-day sun, but mostly from the run he just finished from Tephra, pulled and released around his muscles as he slowed upon entering the field. The green grasses caught against his vermillion legs stinging less and less as he slowed.
He kept his head low his black muzzle skimming the tops of the grasses that only a second ago found need to assault him. Why couldn’t he place the feeling in his chest, or the thoughts that ran through his mind? For all intents and purposes he had a home, a place to call his and yet this is the closest he has felt to belonging - amongst a slew of horses that didn’t belong anywhere. Others who waited, in their own ways, for someone to call them “home”.
He stopped, the thought sitting firmly and stagnant in his brain, and pulled his head up the slightest of bit his vermillion eyes scanning the group of lost, forgotten, misplaced, and misfit horses. He shouldn’t be so judge mental, he had no idea what these other horses stories were. He found himself standing there, a part of his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth, staring unknowingly at a palomino roan mare not far from him ( she looked as if she had a tired mind, who was he to interrupt her story).
@[Ruthless]
His black and vermillion ombré coat slicked with sweat from the mid-day sun, but mostly from the run he just finished from Tephra, pulled and released around his muscles as he slowed upon entering the field. The green grasses caught against his vermillion legs stinging less and less as he slowed.
He kept his head low his black muzzle skimming the tops of the grasses that only a second ago found need to assault him. Why couldn’t he place the feeling in his chest, or the thoughts that ran through his mind? For all intents and purposes he had a home, a place to call his and yet this is the closest he has felt to belonging - amongst a slew of horses that didn’t belong anywhere. Others who waited, in their own ways, for someone to call them “home”.
He stopped, the thought sitting firmly and stagnant in his brain, and pulled his head up the slightest of bit his vermillion eyes scanning the group of lost, forgotten, misplaced, and misfit horses. He shouldn’t be so judge mental, he had no idea what these other horses stories were. He found himself standing there, a part of his bottom lip tucked in between his teeth, staring unknowingly at a palomino roan mare not far from him ( she looked as if she had a tired mind, who was he to interrupt her story).
@[Ruthless]