The day is bright, and clear, and Kilian knows, finally, what he wants. He doesn’t like being alone - he never has, truthfully, though he is too stubborn to admit such a thing, if asked - and so it is time he starts a little herd, a family. He is not old, he doesn’t fear his time has passed or any of that nonsense, but he can feel time slipping by him, and he has only the twins to call his own. And he hasn’t seen either of them in an age.
He approaches a mare, a spotted mare who looks uncomfortable and he knows what he must do. He isn’t the first to approach, he is beaten by a very pink mare who seems to know exactly what she’s doing (a trick that Kilian should probably learn), but he isn’t one to let another’s bluster put him off. Maybe he can make some bluster of his own.
The pink mare speaks, and Kilian answers as if she was speaking to him (she definitely wasn’t, but he figures it’s as good a way as any to enter the conversation). “I’m Kilian. It’s nice to meet you, Marjorie,” he nods to her, a grin across his violet lips - he wants it to look cheeky, as if he is challenging her to a game, but it probably looks like he is just happy to be out in public.
“And it’s nice to meet you, too.” He leaves the sentence hanging in the air, waiting for her name. He hopes the pink mare doesn’t mind the intrusion - though she probably does - but, he supposes, all’s fair. Not that this is love or war (at least, not yet), but the sentiment still stands. He shuffles his weight, watching both mares closely. |
