turn down the light - lochwood, rhysand, other foals?

[Starlin]

I’ve finally found the perfect jumping rock, but there is no one to jump with.

It is a terrible tragedy, and one that I must immediately find a solution to. This must be what Mother feels like on a diplomatic visit, I think as I trot through the autumnal woods: this is a very serious missing. My flicking ears and flaring nostrils are working hard; I don’t want to miss anyone that might be able to help.

Ahead, I see a flicker of movement that looks like it might be another horse. I wrinkle my nose (which is suddenly much darker than it had been a moment ago), and know that it is another foal. I can’t tell if I know them or not, because the wind has shifted and they’ve disappeared behind a hill that I am just starting to climb.

“Lochwood?” I call out curiously, “Rhysand?”

I continue up the hill, eager to share my news.

“Hey! Slow down!” I shout, my pale sides heaving as I finally clamber up to the top of the hill. “I found an awesome jumping place,” I say, not caring if the face I find is my twin or my sort-of-adopted brother, or even a complete stranger. Let’s go!” My smile is contagious, and I prance excitedly on slender white legs, blinking soft blue-grey eyes from the black mask across my face.

OOC: this thread is for any foal (or really foal-like horse) in Sylva that wants to play

[Rhysand]

Rhysand stands quietly, dark tail flipping over painted sides.

He wants so badly to cross into the unknown that lay beyond Sylva. The thick rope that once tethered him to the autumn trees is but only a thread now. One that splinters and tugs every time he finds himself here. Staring blankly across the borders of the land.

When he comes to this spot, he thinks of everything his life has given him so far. A father, Djinni, the twins, a home, his friends, love. In six short months he had been given so many things, and he wanted to do what with it? Throw it away to the wolves so he could just...Just leave?

"No."

he whispered to himself quietly, dark green eyes closing before opening once more.

"Not today Rhys."

His voice is quiet, the childish pitch frightening even him. The painted child was aged far beyond his months. An old soul trapped within that of a boy. A sad smile plasters itself upon his face as he turns away from the scene, lanky legs pulling him into a lope through the trees he called home.

He sighed as the multicolored leaves crunched beneath his hooves, a sound he adored. Despite his hearts deepest desire, he loved the woods. The deep scent of the maple, the soft orange glow that seemed to linger no matter what season, he even loved the annoying call of the birds in the wee morning hours. But what he loved the most (what every child loved most if they grew up in sylva) were the rocks. The towering boulders made just for the children's delight. One could spend hours finding boulders to climb upon, and then jump off of.

It was these rocks that he spent most of his time with the twins seeking. The ones that were just high enough to elicit a squeal before hitting the plush leaves below. Oh how he loved playing in the leaves! Thick layers of foliage that held no fuss when one rolled on them, slept on them or nosed around in...

The frown soon turned to a smile, that soon turned to a laugh. It is then that he hears her, a soft voice calling his name.

"Rhysand?"

He turns his head curiously, cresting the hill behind him was Starlin. Djinni's girl. His sister in all ways but blood.

"I found an awesome jumping place!"

She calls, a smile overtaking her dark face. His ears perk excitedly, frame bouncing in anticipation.

"Lets go!"

And before he can reply she is off, dashing through the woods, with Rhysand close on her heels.

[Starlin]

It’s Rhysand that I find, and I reach forward to jovially bump his shoulder in greeting. He doesn’t say anything, but the way that he follows closely behind me through the woods is obviously a sign that he is ready to play. We have spent most of our lives playing in the woods, Lochwood, Rhysand, and I, and while Mother has told us that someday Rhysand will leave with his father, it is easy to forget. It seems we will always have the woods to play in.

We race through the trees, and I barely have to look where I am going. Growing up here, I know the place as well as I know the pattern of my twin’s tobiano coat; it is easy enough to avoid the reaching roots and other tripping hazards.

A large granite boulder looms ahead of us soon enough, glinting in the late afternoon sun that reaches through the fiery canopy overhead.

“Over here!” I shout over my shoulder to Rhysand.

Unlike many of the stones that litter the floor of Sylva, this one is not level with the ground. Its lowest point is level with my head, and I round the stone until I reach it. There, a tree has fallen against it, and the slop is just enough that a young foal can clamber up it. I do so, and gesture to Rhysand to follow.

The top of the rock is rough and pitted with rainfall, and I pick my way up the slope until I have reached the peak of the boulder. There is a sharp drop-off, and it is there that I stand.

From here, twenty feet in the air, the forest of Sylva spreads out below me. This must be what birds feel like, I think as I look out, waiting for my brother to join me. When he does, I gesture with my masked face to the forest floor below, where it is clear that I have labored to pile an even thicker cover of leaves on the ground than usual. It was not an easy task with my equine mouth, I’d found, but a canine jaw can open much wider and paws can toss leaves about easier than hooves.

“Wanna go first?” I ask, meeting his gaze with my blue-grey eyes and an excited smile. “I mean , I did already try it just in case, but this time you can go first.”