I come to you in Pieces(any)

[Fraktyr]

Love is Blindness

Love is clockworks and it's cold steel
Fingers too numb to feel

It doesn't feel real. Nothing does anymore. His hooves touch the ground, he sees it, but he feels like he's floating. It's warm out, he sees the sun, but it does nothing to heat his flesh. The cold, the wind, tree branches, the ocean, all these things that once caused him equal parts pleasure and discomfort, and he feels nothing. In someways his condition is a blessing. No longer does he feel the stinging blows from his mother or the dull ache of healing wounds. His sense of touch has blurred everything together into a vague sensation of pressure. Cold pressure, hot pressure, more, less, all the same. It left the smoky boy feeling out of place and distressed.

His father was pleased enough which was one less thing for the colt to worry about, but his mother reviled him. Whenever he sought her affection he was pushed away. He was weaned early so she could push him away further, leaving the sweet boy weakened. He was a tall, dangerously thin boy as it was. His features were starting to show the grace and power from his heritage with soft, gentle eyes and a handsome profile.

He found himself wandering back to the field, the place of his ill timed birth, looking for something. Perhaps the comforting touch of another being, or at the very least the companionship he was so desperate to find and lacking at home.

When he reached the meadow he was beside himself with timid glee. Never before had he seen so many horses gathered in one meeting place. The grass was lush beneath his desensitized hooves and the sun was bright. He couldn't help the silly grin that pulled at unused muscles as he looked for someone to talk to.

I don't want to see

Fraktyr | Hybrid | Smokey Black | Colt

[Black Ranger]

Black was walking through the summer grass, his mind was tossing and turning of so many things. He didnt know what world and way he wanted to go. He was king of his own land and no one to share it with. He's been exploring from Kingdom to kingdom, trying to find himself. He wasnt born here but yet he felt alittle out of place here. He came through the trees to the opening to the open meadow. His black legs carried him over the tall grass, his muscular figure was covered in a jet black pelt. His mane was so long it almost touched his shoulder, and his forelock covered his eyes. When he walked he usually arched his neck looking proud.

As he had lifted his crown to the heavens looking around to see if anyone here needed any company. He didnt care who it was it would just be nice to talk and meet with others, His nose flared caught scent of something, it was a colt. He snorted searching, started walking looking for the source, his black hooves dug up the earth as he walked. He saw a figure in the distance, he couldnt pick it out. He picked up the pace and started to trot towards the figure. As he got closer he had found the figure that matched the scent. It was a colt all alone, he looked around wondering why he was all alone. It looked like he had alot on his mind. Should he step up and make his presence known or back off to leave him be?

He stepped closer to the figure. Hello there im Black Ranger, why are you here all alone? He stood tall over him, he was about 17 hands he was massive he usually towered over many. He looked at this creature through his forelock his nose flared trying to catch his scent. He was definitly different but he couldnt figure out what it was.

She nickered softly

[Weir]

Weir liked a great many things, and one of them, was walks. They were so, leisurely. He need only keep up with himself, so as is his fashion, he goes about setting a slow pace.

Today he canvases the Meadow. A sort of gathering place here in the lands of Beqanna, horses of all sorts come here to chatter. Weir, he comes to listen, to observe. He dips his chestnut dial in passing, locks a deep russet spilling across his face each time. The weather is polite today. A cool breeze sifts through the stagnant summer air, Weir welcomes it's presence, for gnats did not like the wind.

This day his amber pools fall upon two gentleman engaged in friendly banter. This is however not what wholely entices Weir to intrude, one of them is very interesting. The roan slowly invades the conversation, a smile upon his maw, he seems every bit a pleasant old fellow. He peers closely at the young boy, doing nothing to hide the fact. "Remarkable, my dear boy, you are.." he pauses taking a long inhale,scenting the colt, "entirely plastic. Is it not?" Weir pulls his crown and neck back, looking expectantly at the child.

He does though seem to recall his manners, however delayed. "Oh right right, terribly sorry, I am Weir from the Dale."He does his best to save face, though he retains an inquisitive look in his eye.

Eclectic Vagabond of the Dale