Darling leave the light on for me
I'll be there before you close the door
Vadar is well aware that he shouldn’t have looked. In his defense the brightly colored mare, painted like a springtime daisy herself, had startled him into a jerking, flashing sort of awareness. The black coat and offset silver hair he wore sparkled briefly like a diamond put up against the sun, thousands of small, blood red beams that glanced away from the epicenter of his body until he came to behold the picturesque female wading out into the heart of river. He should not have looked, because when he does it's impossible to tear his eyes away again.
She was lovely. Having been born an unsightly creature himself and raised briefly underneath the conflicted eye of a dam who was handicapped, Vadar’s always drawn to the things in life he’ll never be able to imitate. A Quasimodo, splashed on the face with a ridiculous-looking mask, forever falling in love with gypsy women who only have eyes for rich, talented, handsome creatures unlike himself.
Ah well. He was staring now so the worst had already taken place. Having subdued his power for the moment, the darkish stallion brought his legs squarely underneath himself again and lowered eyelids that had widened, appraising her on the banks of the meadow with equal amounts fear and longing. She’d come directly from the forest like some wandering nymph, unabashed and certainly not opposed to attention … he just doubts his ability to truly entertain her.
No question in his mind that she was one for adventure, or perhaps the mildly dangerous sort of male, both of which he was severely lacking. Still, for some reason he can’t explain, Vadar finds himself winding nearer to the exposed shore - ears perked upright and mouth smiling, always smiling. “You look entirely too happy to be in the midst of a plague.” He calls out from where he stands, the tan and muddy riverbank sinking beneath the weight of his stocky build.
So far apart the two look equal in size, maybe his thick chest and hindquarters give him a bit of a boost, but up close she’s taller than him. Most were. It’s why he still lingers instead of sinking into the water himself. Out there - in the heart of the swirling eddy she so brazenly stood against - he’d have to tread water. “What’s your secret?” He wants to know, swishing the pewter strands of his lush, too-thick tail and leaving streaks of pale clay along his flanks in its wake.
@[peregrine jude]