Djinni does not quite belong here, but she can think of nowhere else that she needs to be. Without family, kingdom, or responsibilities to tie her down, the mare is apt to wander through Beqanna in search of something to amuse herself.
The Field should belong to those looking for a home and to those willing to offer them one, but Djinni is neither of those.
She strolls across the field on thick black legs, enjoying the sunlight and the way it looks as it shines down on her well-muscles back, turning the mahogany bay to nearly amber. She had seen a pair of Clydesdales once in her travels, and today she wears their looks: strong, foreboding, and traditionally masculine. The smile that lights up her blazed face when he sees the spotted mare is anything but though; Djinni looks positively giddy.
She prances toward the appaloosa with a spryness atypical to a creature as large as she is, and her smile is bright and contagious. “Your spots are beautiful,” she says, lowering her nose to gesture at the pattern across the mare’s coat. “I’ve never had spots before…do you mind?” Though she asks, she does not wait for permission, and with a ripple of bay skin, Djinni wears spots of her own. They are gold (matching the rings in her ears and bracelets around her ankles), and somewhat gaudy against the skill bay basecoat that she wears.
“Are you new to Beqanna?” She asks, looking curiously down at the other mare. She does not smell like any kingdom Djinni knows, and there are often strangers that appear in the wildlands and find their way to the Field. “I’m Djinni, by the way. What is your name?”