Don't you dare for get the sun (Any)

[Texas]

and I discovered that my castles stand

upon pillars of salt and pillars of sand

Something he’s said seems to resonate with the dun mare, and Texas watches as her mood shifts. Not having a home isn’t a state worthy of sadness for the bay stallion, so for a moment he is at a loss as to why it is so striking to the mare beside him. He’s gone decades with nowhere to lay his head but the Meadow, but his necessary socialization threshold is remarkably low for a horse. The same clearly can’t be said for Hoku.

Clearly the idea of home has brought up sour memories, and Texas does his best to seem appropriately concerned. He does look more closely at the scar – he’d not noticed it at all until she’d pointed it out. He’s never managed to keep a scar for longer than they take to heal; it’s a side effect of his immortality, he supposes. It does look rather nasty, and telling of a painful wound to go along with her story. “That sounds sad,” he says, unsure what else is appropriate to say in response to such a tale.

When she refuses to get close despite clearly seeming to want to, Texas chooses to break his customary approach and takes the final step, pressing his warm shoulder against hers. It’s nothing more than companionable – shared warmth in the cold – and he says nothing about it to avoid any potential awkwardness. “The Falls is nice,” he says with a nod, “Warmer than here anyway. No nasty stallions either.”

texas