paint it black; any

[Lior]

dark son of gunsynd

He stands tall, unwavering, by the scent of panting mares and the animistic grunts of testosterone fueled stallions. The inky black man gazes outward as he allows his dark view to crawl over the tangle of bodies peering from the brush of his brow. Unnoticed at first but rudely firmly penetrating his solitude, a little voice pipes up.  It's feminine and high. He moves to look upon the keeper of the young voice and...well...his eyes are not disappointed. A small blue roan girl, leggy and rather delicate as she stands next to him. And from what Lior can see, she is attempting some idle chit chat. Long lashes fall over the darkness of his eyes as he stares down at her from the length of his nose. Blink. "That's adorable." The stallion mutters from the heavily whiskered lips. He inhales her scent and stores it away before proceeding to dip his skull a little closer to her...and of course disregarding her space. "Igni. What land do you come from?" He ignores her questions and cheekiness rather bluntly but instead commands the space between them and replaces her questions with his own. Lobes move within the nest of dark mane as he awaits her reply. LIOR