03-27-2023, 07:56 PM
Juice is a creature of habit so, when Sylva disappeared, the reclusive bronc sought shelter in the Forest. He prefers the company of the darkness and, the conversations between the birches and elms. He, occasionally, made an appearance on the River's grassy bank; however, he likes being lost amongst the maze of tree trunks.
His winter coat, a muted cocoa hue, has mostly shed to give way to his summer shade of cinnamon. In stark contrast, half of his face, his underside, and all four limbs are white. He has matured out of his lanky adolescence into a lean, athletic build, much like that of a Thoroughbred. Juice lurks in the shadow of a large Elm while his dark orbs survey the dimly lit space around him. Today, the male is tucked deep into the crevices of the Forest.
Unbeknownst to Juice, his sire dwells in an adjacent section of the common land, around the same time. The young steed has no interest in getting to know his father. As far as Juice is concerned, his father abandoned him, his twin sister, and his mother. He wonders, briefly, where Jager and Lavendel are these days. Though, so much time has passed that he quickly brings his thoughts back to the present. His olfactory system filters through the damp, musk of the Forest while his small, black eyes rapidly dart about beneath his matted forelock. He stands neither on-edge, nor at-ease. He is merely an extension of the trunk to his left, listening fully to the surrounding scene.
@
Iris @Eight
His winter coat, a muted cocoa hue, has mostly shed to give way to his summer shade of cinnamon. In stark contrast, half of his face, his underside, and all four limbs are white. He has matured out of his lanky adolescence into a lean, athletic build, much like that of a Thoroughbred. Juice lurks in the shadow of a large Elm while his dark orbs survey the dimly lit space around him. Today, the male is tucked deep into the crevices of the Forest.
Unbeknownst to Juice, his sire dwells in an adjacent section of the common land, around the same time. The young steed has no interest in getting to know his father. As far as Juice is concerned, his father abandoned him, his twin sister, and his mother. He wonders, briefly, where Jager and Lavendel are these days. Though, so much time has passed that he quickly brings his thoughts back to the present. His olfactory system filters through the damp, musk of the Forest while his small, black eyes rapidly dart about beneath his matted forelock. He stands neither on-edge, nor at-ease. He is merely an extension of the trunk to his left, listening fully to the surrounding scene.
@
Iris @Eight