07-24-2015, 11:50 PM
Night was easily his favorite time. No one bothered him at night and he was free to drift across moors and fields and meadows like a specter or perhaps a phooka, daring anyone to grasp his mane and mount his back. Oubliette looked the part, that much was plain to see. His mousy grullo coat was inky in the low light of night, the dark primitive markings almost colorlessly black. His skin stretched taut over a scarecrow-like frame, spindly and rail thin. Some horses were just born ugly and Oubliette was one of them. Where one set of longish ears stopped, another set began but they hung low and floppy against his straight neck.
What he was doing in the Meadow, he couldn't say. Perhaps it was simply because it was easy to walk there. Few obstacles blocked his path and company was easy to avoid so long as you kept your eyes open and mouth shut. Lifting his head to get his bearings(not that it mattered, he wasn't going anywhere in particular), his black, ill-tempered eyes caught sight of something strangish and blue. Another horse was walking in his direction and if neither changed course they would eventually collide. Oubliette was not prone to curiosity so when he continued on his way it was more because he simply didn't feel like stepping aside. That was for horses with less apathy and more respect.
The ghoulish grullo was not one to give respect. He didn't love anyone enough for that. And it was never love that motivated Oubliette. Pain, fear, loathing, disgust. Those were the emotional palette that the stallion painted his world with. Hate was his security blanket. He was very good at hate, almost as good as he was with apathy.
Eventually he found himself within feet of the stranger. Pausing for a moment, his body slouched in a boneless way, he regarded the blue horse with his mean black eyes. Black lips barely moving he speaks in a slow, rattly voice, "Move."
What he was doing in the Meadow, he couldn't say. Perhaps it was simply because it was easy to walk there. Few obstacles blocked his path and company was easy to avoid so long as you kept your eyes open and mouth shut. Lifting his head to get his bearings(not that it mattered, he wasn't going anywhere in particular), his black, ill-tempered eyes caught sight of something strangish and blue. Another horse was walking in his direction and if neither changed course they would eventually collide. Oubliette was not prone to curiosity so when he continued on his way it was more because he simply didn't feel like stepping aside. That was for horses with less apathy and more respect.
The ghoulish grullo was not one to give respect. He didn't love anyone enough for that. And it was never love that motivated Oubliette. Pain, fear, loathing, disgust. Those were the emotional palette that the stallion painted his world with. Hate was his security blanket. He was very good at hate, almost as good as he was with apathy.
Eventually he found himself within feet of the stranger. Pausing for a moment, his body slouched in a boneless way, he regarded the blue horse with his mean black eyes. Black lips barely moving he speaks in a slow, rattly voice, "Move."