09-02-2015, 04:37 PM
All things are possible, even the worst of things.
He had spent much of his life in doubt, unsure of which path would best suit him. He had wasted years making his decision. He had vacillated between so many different choices, even when the obvious choice had been staring him in the face the entire time. Since he had been but a boy, he had subconsciously known where he would go. He had met a goddess and, though he had not known it, his entire future had turned at that point. But he had wasted years before the realization struck. He had been pulled in too many different directions by too many horses that he loved, and it had clouded his vision. It was not until he had made the decision that he simply was not going to decide that the choice became clear.
And now that he is here, he could not be happier with his choice. He had not felt so at peace in ages. As the two mares survey their surroundings, one in open awe, the other in quiet reservation, her observes them with a gentle eye. He doesn’t wish to frighten them away with his boldness (for though he is reserved now, he is quite capable of cheeky audacity), and so remains quietly unobtrusive as they check things out.
After she drinks with an enthusiasm not often seen, Lethea asks her first question. Her inquiry is not unexpected. It is natural to be curious about those they would live with, and considering he was the one who had brought them here, it is an entirely pertinent question.
I have not. I was actually born in the Amazons.
He grins as a hint of amusement edges into his tone.
As you can imagine, my presence there was not really very necessary. But the Deserts welcomed me with open arms.
Mnemosine speaks then, uttering only his name on a questioning breath. His head tips in her direction as his warm, brown eyes settle upon her. For a moment, she looks as though she might add more. But she does not, instead turning her head to brush her muzzle against her sister’s scarred side. Lethea does speak then, words spilling as easily from her lips as Mnemosine’s had stuck against her tongue. He smiles wistfully as she capers a short distance away, investigating the sand and scrubby brush beneath her feet.
There are a few others here, though not many at the moment. But you could probably fit a hundred horses here and still not feel crowded.
He lifts his voice slightly so that it will carry to the bay mare. Mnemosine’s soft voice brings his attention back to her as her words of thanks slip quietly into the air. His features soften as she offers her hushed, halting gratitude for his invitation. He tilts his muzzle towards her, as though to brush it against her shoulder, before dropping it just as swiftly. He is a tactile man, often touching others, but he suspects these women might shy away from his touch. The last thing he wishes to do is cause the two scarred women any more stress or anxiety.
You are more than welcome. I'm delighted to have you guys here. Besides, it would be rather poor form of me to judge you when I'm sure I am far more judge-worthy.
Sometimes, he just can't keep from the humor from creeping in, even at his own expense.
And now that he is here, he could not be happier with his choice. He had not felt so at peace in ages. As the two mares survey their surroundings, one in open awe, the other in quiet reservation, her observes them with a gentle eye. He doesn’t wish to frighten them away with his boldness (for though he is reserved now, he is quite capable of cheeky audacity), and so remains quietly unobtrusive as they check things out.
After she drinks with an enthusiasm not often seen, Lethea asks her first question. Her inquiry is not unexpected. It is natural to be curious about those they would live with, and considering he was the one who had brought them here, it is an entirely pertinent question.
I have not. I was actually born in the Amazons.
He grins as a hint of amusement edges into his tone.
As you can imagine, my presence there was not really very necessary. But the Deserts welcomed me with open arms.
Mnemosine speaks then, uttering only his name on a questioning breath. His head tips in her direction as his warm, brown eyes settle upon her. For a moment, she looks as though she might add more. But she does not, instead turning her head to brush her muzzle against her sister’s scarred side. Lethea does speak then, words spilling as easily from her lips as Mnemosine’s had stuck against her tongue. He smiles wistfully as she capers a short distance away, investigating the sand and scrubby brush beneath her feet.
There are a few others here, though not many at the moment. But you could probably fit a hundred horses here and still not feel crowded.
He lifts his voice slightly so that it will carry to the bay mare. Mnemosine’s soft voice brings his attention back to her as her words of thanks slip quietly into the air. His features soften as she offers her hushed, halting gratitude for his invitation. He tilts his muzzle towards her, as though to brush it against her shoulder, before dropping it just as swiftly. He is a tactile man, often touching others, but he suspects these women might shy away from his touch. The last thing he wishes to do is cause the two scarred women any more stress or anxiety.
You are more than welcome. I'm delighted to have you guys here. Besides, it would be rather poor form of me to judge you when I'm sure I am far more judge-worthy.
Sometimes, he just can't keep from the humor from creeping in, even at his own expense.
shahrizai
hestoni x scorch