08-28-2021, 10:39 PM
Truly, it was a blessing he arrived to Beqanna when he did -- at the tail end of the breeding season when the females were just going out of heat and the insatiable rutting ceased. He was only male, after all. He didn't need the scent of mares with that sort of need distracting him. Nor did he need all the posturing of the other stallions to contend with -- the flattened ears, the bared teeth, the palpable jealousy. He was far too old, far too jaded, and far too busy to deal with such short-sighted colts. Let them play their little games and fill their lands with yet another nameless, faceless foal -- another dull star twinkling in their already over-full sky.
He was a pickier sort of brute.
But winter? Blessed winter. That was a time when the strong thrived, when the weak perished, when hunger gnawed at one's belly and honed the senses into a keen awareness. It was a time for survival. A time for action. He could hardly wait.
But in the here and the now, there were other things to contend with, other things to consider. Like the pretty, little palomino glinting in the sunlight just beyond the shadows of his trees. Steps slowing, head lifting, he turned his gaze upon her and let his molten orbs burn against her countenance, as though he intended to look through her and into her very soul. Her words, her question, drew a faint smirk to the corner of his velveteen lips. Had he been a more flirtatious sort, he might have answered her with a bantering reply of, 'You, of course.' But no. He was hardly in the mood for such games at present.
So instead, he answered her with a far more truthful, "Always," that singular word a near-purr as it rumbled forth from deep within his chest. Drawing to a pause at last, he pricked his ears toward her and drank in deeply of the chill autumn air along with the alluring perfume of her particular scent. Tested it. Tasted it. And filed it away.
"But are not we all?" he then posed, his skull faintly canting to the side with that question. Letting such words hang in the air for but the span of a few moments, the great brute was then surging into motion again, his long legs carrying him at a leisurely jog from the shadows and out into the sun, toward the femme. The light danced off of his scarred pelt as he moved, his marred form broadcasting to the world a tale of many hardships and even more battles with each step. Halting just beyond reach of the other, he settled himself in for a chat with a fairly relaxed sort of stance -- his right hock cocked, his tail idly swishing against the backs of his legs while he observed the delicate creature before him. When finally he spoke again, it was to see his deep baritone rumbling to life yet again like a peal of dark thunder when he observed: "But perhaps you can sate my curiosity in a small way, hmm? Assuming you'd be willing to answer a few questions for a perfect stranger."
He was a pickier sort of brute.
But winter? Blessed winter. That was a time when the strong thrived, when the weak perished, when hunger gnawed at one's belly and honed the senses into a keen awareness. It was a time for survival. A time for action. He could hardly wait.
But in the here and the now, there were other things to contend with, other things to consider. Like the pretty, little palomino glinting in the sunlight just beyond the shadows of his trees. Steps slowing, head lifting, he turned his gaze upon her and let his molten orbs burn against her countenance, as though he intended to look through her and into her very soul. Her words, her question, drew a faint smirk to the corner of his velveteen lips. Had he been a more flirtatious sort, he might have answered her with a bantering reply of, 'You, of course.' But no. He was hardly in the mood for such games at present.
So instead, he answered her with a far more truthful, "Always," that singular word a near-purr as it rumbled forth from deep within his chest. Drawing to a pause at last, he pricked his ears toward her and drank in deeply of the chill autumn air along with the alluring perfume of her particular scent. Tested it. Tasted it. And filed it away.
"But are not we all?" he then posed, his skull faintly canting to the side with that question. Letting such words hang in the air for but the span of a few moments, the great brute was then surging into motion again, his long legs carrying him at a leisurely jog from the shadows and out into the sun, toward the femme. The light danced off of his scarred pelt as he moved, his marred form broadcasting to the world a tale of many hardships and even more battles with each step. Halting just beyond reach of the other, he settled himself in for a chat with a fairly relaxed sort of stance -- his right hock cocked, his tail idly swishing against the backs of his legs while he observed the delicate creature before him. When finally he spoke again, it was to see his deep baritone rumbling to life yet again like a peal of dark thunder when he observed: "But perhaps you can sate my curiosity in a small way, hmm? Assuming you'd be willing to answer a few questions for a perfect stranger."
cassiell
temperance is a virtue
@Aela