09-02-2016, 07:40 PM
He was completely relaxed and introspective. Wondering what had happened for Beqanna to change their world, wondering how it'd changed, and wondering how many had been affected. This place is full of wonder, and unlike anywhere he'd ever explored. He supposed that's why he always came home. Despite the face, of course, that all his family was here.. somewhere. Weren't they? His parents were together in the afterlife, but he had siblings. A few he knew, probably a good number he hadn't met. He wondered where they were now and how this shift in their universe was affecting them. He yearned for his family, for even more than that. That was the main pull for him to return home. Oh, the Jungle.. Was she gone forever? Or would he find her again one day? Time could only tell, but for now, he could only move forward and be grateful for his health.
The bay roan was completely relaxed with hoof cocked and weight leaned against the tree he stood next to, totally aloof. So when the other bumped into him, he snapped to attention with a jolt. Grateful for the tree, else he might have been knocked over, rich milk chocolate gaze leapt to the other male. A simple sound came out from him, a simple word. "Sorry." Simeon would have laughed at the simple accident, not one who was quick to respond with anger, except the black stallion before him seemed so... off. Down-cast, eyes shadowed. Immediately, he wondered how much the stranger had lost. "Don't worry about it, amico. There is no harm done." His voice was deep, tones smooth, and he carried a faint Italian accent having practiced the native tongue of his father for many years. Amico, the Italian word for friend, as Simeon sees everyone until proven otherwise. He tilted his head at the other, wanting to do or say something to bring some life back into his eyes. Hesitating a moment while studying him, he says, "It can't be so bad, can it?" Oh, ever the optimist. And perhaps because he is so much of a wanderer, and completely normal compared to most Beqannians, not always the best at socialization. Still, he stands by his estimation. Things can always be worse.
The bay roan was completely relaxed with hoof cocked and weight leaned against the tree he stood next to, totally aloof. So when the other bumped into him, he snapped to attention with a jolt. Grateful for the tree, else he might have been knocked over, rich milk chocolate gaze leapt to the other male. A simple sound came out from him, a simple word. "Sorry." Simeon would have laughed at the simple accident, not one who was quick to respond with anger, except the black stallion before him seemed so... off. Down-cast, eyes shadowed. Immediately, he wondered how much the stranger had lost. "Don't worry about it, amico. There is no harm done." His voice was deep, tones smooth, and he carried a faint Italian accent having practiced the native tongue of his father for many years. Amico, the Italian word for friend, as Simeon sees everyone until proven otherwise. He tilted his head at the other, wanting to do or say something to bring some life back into his eyes. Hesitating a moment while studying him, he says, "It can't be so bad, can it?" Oh, ever the optimist. And perhaps because he is so much of a wanderer, and completely normal compared to most Beqannians, not always the best at socialization. Still, he stands by his estimation. Things can always be worse.
