08-06-2016, 10:16 PM
He spies her staring at the waterfall; knows that she keeps to herself in this damp corner of the oasis. The waterfall misted the air, made it swim with rainbows and her silver black shape - she is a paint, like his mother and so very unlike his mother too except in the way her feet are planted in the dirt, her stance as uninviting as his own often is. Her smile, small and inviting, pulled him in close despite his own closed off nature that rebelled and sought to keep him running the badlands around their canyon home. Anything to keep him from opening up again and feeling the hurt cut through him all over again.
Her hello was quiet and polite, and all he can offer back to her is the same polite but casual greeting. “Hi,” he says, rather unenthusiastic about the prospect of having to play nice even if he suspects he owes her something for agreeing to come with him. He needed no force in his coercion, but he knew none of this was possible without her and some old part of him rears its ugly head to remind him of his manners. So he does the unthinkable: he thanks her, “Thank you.” It is short and rather to the point, as he spares no breath or thought to the thanks he gives her. His nose is not offered afterwards, no need to exchange air like horses of old do even if his instinct pipes up and says he ought to.
Mandan is taking no chances; he strives to keep his land and will cultivate a herd as is the expectation but he has little purpose since his heart had been cut so neatly in two, so easily and beautifully ruined that he thinks there is little left in him that is capable of small kindnesses except to his foals - they had his undying attention and love, but mares like her? He’s starting to think they’re a dime a dozen and all alike: “love me, love me, NEXT!” But no, she is not bay and salmon-pointed and her eyes are not that sweet - they are eyes that have seen both sides of the coin, good and bad, and he feels a faint appreciation for that bubble up in him. Her eyes are real and not lost in a haze of dreams, no matter how long she stares into the waterfall - he knows that she has seen it all.
“The waterfall seems to interest you more than anything else,” he says aloud, his hard dark eyes sliding towards her face to judge her reaction to the statement he’s made.