10-30-2019, 08:10 AM
At first he does not see her well, just a shifting bit of pastel against the lush green undergrowth. Good camouflage for this place, he thinks to himself, and then wonders why he considers that good. Somewhere, tickling at the back of his mind is a memory. It will vanish if he reaches for it, the brindle knows, so instead he leaves it lie and focuses instead on the yearling filly drawing near.
Though he cannot be quite sure how old he is, she does not seem many years younger. Still a child, but friendly and with a smile that brings a matching one to his mouth.
“Hello Divest,” he replies, bobbing his head in greeting without wondering how he knows that is the polite thing to do. “You can call me Blue. ”
It’s the name he had chosen in the Field, an apt description of himself if nothing else. It hadn’t seemed too outlandish a name, and it was far better than admitting that he did not have one. Or at least that he does not remember having one.
“I think I’m going to live here.” He tells her, recalling that Castile had implied that this place was nearly empty save the friendly Ruinam. Divest is here though, and young enough that he thinks her mother must be as well. “Are you Ruinam’s daughter?” He asks curiously. They are both pale, after all, and perhaps if her mother were some shade of emerald green then Ruinam as her sire would make sense.
@[Divest]
Though he cannot be quite sure how old he is, she does not seem many years younger. Still a child, but friendly and with a smile that brings a matching one to his mouth.
“Hello Divest,” he replies, bobbing his head in greeting without wondering how he knows that is the polite thing to do. “You can call me Blue. ”
It’s the name he had chosen in the Field, an apt description of himself if nothing else. It hadn’t seemed too outlandish a name, and it was far better than admitting that he did not have one. Or at least that he does not remember having one.
“I think I’m going to live here.” He tells her, recalling that Castile had implied that this place was nearly empty save the friendly Ruinam. Divest is here though, and young enough that he thinks her mother must be as well. “Are you Ruinam’s daughter?” He asks curiously. They are both pale, after all, and perhaps if her mother were some shade of emerald green then Ruinam as her sire would make sense.
@[Divest]