Geremy
Everything was shit, at least that is what Geremy saw it all as. Was he too old now to be brooding over the past? Probably, did that mean he'd ever stop? Never. It was a part of him now, a part of his daily routine. To scowl over his damned mother, too busy with whatever else in life than her own blood. Everything in him screamed to let it go, to stop being so hateful towards the mare, but again it was who he was now.
The ever hateful brute, with a love to all things female so long as it was not his dam. How could he resist their sweet scent, their lyrical vocals, their soft velveteen coat. Oh those wondrous angels would be his downfall, and what a downfall it would be.
He was hunting them today, just like every other day of the dammed year. He'd court the angels sent to him for him to play with, and then when he got bored with her, well, that would just be one more broken heart added to his list. Did he care? No, he'd put that on his dam. The oh so "loving" mother of him had been sure to raise him just right, and look how he had turned out. Tall handsome dark and mysterious, I mean, who wouldn't want to try their luck with him. Maybe one day someone would sway from his old ways, but Geremy would not have any of that, oh no. He liked his bachelor life, living alone and stalking the fields, forest and meadows as he pleased. He listened to no one but himself, and he'd be caught dead if ever there came a day he listened to a mare, let alone another stallion.
"Damn them all to hell. " Geremy mutters beneath his breath as he moves across the field, muscles rippling as his pillar-like legs propel himself over the ground. The trees on the horizon were already coloured like a warzone, reds, auburns, orange, hazel and browns littered the treeline and the ground around it. The tall dark brute moves with a determined pace, onyx eyes scanning the area, he sees many faces, many pretty, but he would not approach them, not yet. For now he wanted to watch, to see if any might prove themselves easier, or many harder. A challenge was always welcomed, because the aftermath was always the worst. A dark smirk touched his features as he thought of what possible damage he could do to any of the angels and he quickly let it fade away, his eyes had found his next target.
"Why hello there." His voice is dark and husky, but smooth and alluring. He offers the mare a bow of his head and a warm smile. All part of a game he had played many a time. "I am Geremy, but you may call me Ger. May I be graced with your name, my lady?" His courting already begins, his dark eyes do not leave hers as more words melt from his mouth, almost purring the last few words.
Some people are just born with tragedy in their blood.
