Vadar
Seven characteristics are in an uncultivated person, and seven in a learned one
It’s time to wake up.
Vadar opened his eyes, instantly awake.
He forgot what he’d been dreaming about, but those hollow words lingered after the warmth of sleep wore off. It was the dead of nighttime in Beqanna and the silver-black stallion waited a moment, breathing in the quiet. He was posted up against a large tree, one whose trunk was squat and wide at the base, leaning against the solid oak just listening for an interruption that never came. Minutes later he snorted, disgusted with himself for being naively hopeful and annoyed with the universe for its meddling.
He wasn’t central to this world, so why the hell did it keep sparking his interest? Until this second he’d been content to fade into the background of society, almost happy to fill the void of existence by simply being alive, and now this? With the voices and the sudden memories of her-
Vadar stopped that thought, irritated already.
The night was a waste, a total waste. He renounced sleep altogether and clopped away from the one tree into a sea of thousands more, eager to be moving. Short in stature, the pony stallion had few characteristics to distinguish himself from the masses; among them were his facial markings: strange spots as diamonds over his eyes, one long swipe of pale white over his lips like a permanent smile. In the dark, his eyes gleamed red-hot. Not particularly tall, but stout - his neck was just one thick, curved crest of muscle with a pale mane to accent its shape.
The years had been good to him.
The company of others had not.
He crashed through bushes with very little concern for whomever else might be sleeping as well, determined to spoil everything just like his night had been spoiled, heading downhill until the River’s roar was unmistakable. There, he spied a flickering light in the distance and turned directly for it - darkly surprised that an outlet for his misplaced anger would appear so suddenly out of thin air. The next domino to fall in a succession of endless dominoes; that’s all Vadar thought of the mare on fire.
She was a means to an end. Nothing more, nothing less.
Approaching Sunlight exactly where she’d expected him to appear, Vadar trod out from the darkness in no particular hurry. He flung one leg in front of the other, trailing dirt and debris in the tangled locs growing wild down his limbs, and flashed his eyes briefly at the mare filly before snapping his foreteeth together with a loud click.
Strike one.
“I’m not in the mood to babysit, so piss off.” He muttered a thinly veiled threat, giving the child her one and only ‘out’.
“Now.” He commanded.
@[Sunlight] isn't he just a peach?