12-18-2020, 11:31 AM
Ever since accidentally running away, Oren has tried his best to be a good boy and stick around for Mama and Rosey. But with Reave eating up more and more of his mother’s attention, and Oren’s legs growing not only longer but also a bit thicker this summer, he catches himself off-guard more often. Taiga is a fun place to run around in and no doubt the best place to play tag with his sister and his younger brother, but even the prospect of Papa visiting in the evenings can’t fully keep him grounded. And perhaps it shouldn’t and this is what comes from ageing: he can only guess because even his mother can’t always have the answers to his questions any longer. Unsatiated, today the gold-marked roan makes his way towards the common lands.
The field stretches out in front of him like and endless sea and for a moment he wonders to himself what would happen if horses were indeed fish in a sea of green; would the world under and above the sea’s surface look pretty much the same? What if the air were breathable water, would that mean everyone could fly?
Oh, he shakes his head - he shouldn’t be speculating when in the face of strangers, zoning out like that. Already he sees the figure of a mare nearby and can only hope she didn’t see him staring into the distance like that. A closer look reveals scars, from a distance he has been told other horses don’t make out such detail yet (but having been born with it, he has a hard time imagining how little another might see). She is grazing and doesn’t seem to mind him, so he wanders over, trots a bit then stops to greet her.
”Hello,” he greets her. There is a barely bit back kind of curiosity in his tone, and he tries not to ask a question; once started, he might not be able to stop the flow. ”I’m Oren,” the year-and-a-half year old colt states. He knows he sounds a bit strained but he really really shouldn’t. Should he? Maybe she wouldn’t mind if he asked...
The field stretches out in front of him like and endless sea and for a moment he wonders to himself what would happen if horses were indeed fish in a sea of green; would the world under and above the sea’s surface look pretty much the same? What if the air were breathable water, would that mean everyone could fly?
Oh, he shakes his head - he shouldn’t be speculating when in the face of strangers, zoning out like that. Already he sees the figure of a mare nearby and can only hope she didn’t see him staring into the distance like that. A closer look reveals scars, from a distance he has been told other horses don’t make out such detail yet (but having been born with it, he has a hard time imagining how little another might see). She is grazing and doesn’t seem to mind him, so he wanders over, trots a bit then stops to greet her.
”Hello,” he greets her. There is a barely bit back kind of curiosity in his tone, and he tries not to ask a question; once started, he might not be able to stop the flow. ”I’m Oren,” the year-and-a-half year old colt states. He knows he sounds a bit strained but he really really shouldn’t. Should he? Maybe she wouldn’t mind if he asked...
Oren
I'll follow you when the stars go blue
@[Andromake]