He is old as fuck.
His bones pop and creak where once supple ligaments would bend at will. The once deep steel gray of his hide is nearly white with age, the black locks that once hid the deep emerald of his eyes i salt and pepped with the silver in his mane.
Marijuana not ready for this.
The only vibrancy left to him is the deep emerald of his feathered wings and matching eyes. Other than that, he is a palette of gray and silver. The man touches down in the meadow, familiar and sturdy like an old beaten car that he can not give up. Beqanna had been his home for so long that he is almost apart of it as the very soil at his dark hooves. Mari can recall the days when his wings were a sight to see. The women rushed him in a desperate attempt to bear his children but now...now it was the non-mythics that were rare. His dark green eyes are tired as she rakes his teeth at some new spring grass, tasting the sweetness in their stems.
Emerald wings tuck at his spine as the striped stallion moves by foot. He had heard Beqanna had gone yet another metamorphosis and wanted to lay his eyes upon the old gal once again. The land seemed fertile once again. The warmth from the sun glinted across dew kissed flower petals. All seemed right with the world. Mari wasn't sure what changes had occurred nor did he really care. He was just as eternal as the place and intended to stick around for as long as possible. He tips his heavy head for a moment to recall where he exactly became immortal or what drug deal he had to lay down for it but he can not remember. Oh well. The silver man stops to admire some pretty mares as they pass, his signature smirk touching his lips. He may be old but he sure as fuck was still handsome.
Besides, bourbon old gets better with age.
His bones pop and creak where once supple ligaments would bend at will. The once deep steel gray of his hide is nearly white with age, the black locks that once hid the deep emerald of his eyes i salt and pepped with the silver in his mane.
Marijuana not ready for this.
The only vibrancy left to him is the deep emerald of his feathered wings and matching eyes. Other than that, he is a palette of gray and silver. The man touches down in the meadow, familiar and sturdy like an old beaten car that he can not give up. Beqanna had been his home for so long that he is almost apart of it as the very soil at his dark hooves. Mari can recall the days when his wings were a sight to see. The women rushed him in a desperate attempt to bear his children but now...now it was the non-mythics that were rare. His dark green eyes are tired as she rakes his teeth at some new spring grass, tasting the sweetness in their stems.
Emerald wings tuck at his spine as the striped stallion moves by foot. He had heard Beqanna had gone yet another metamorphosis and wanted to lay his eyes upon the old gal once again. The land seemed fertile once again. The warmth from the sun glinted across dew kissed flower petals. All seemed right with the world. Mari wasn't sure what changes had occurred nor did he really care. He was just as eternal as the place and intended to stick around for as long as possible. He tips his heavy head for a moment to recall where he exactly became immortal or what drug deal he had to lay down for it but he can not remember. Oh well. The silver man stops to admire some pretty mares as they pass, his signature smirk touching his lips. He may be old but he sure as fuck was still handsome.
Besides, bourbon old gets better with age.
Marijuana
all we need is some ice cream and a hug
not sure how long he'll stick around beqanna for but if you're into quickies, feel free to post
and we'll see what happens from there.