02-08-2019, 11:49 PM
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Briseis is everything, but there is one thing she would be unable to keep him from should she try. He is a most obedient and loving little boy where his momma is concerned, but Haunt might be the weak point, the chink in the boys binding to his mother’s rules.
Misfit squeals when the dark child suddenly tugs his tail, and he bucks and whirls toward the peals of giggles but his flashing blue eyes cannot pick the shape of his shadow friend out of the darkness in which they love to play. The grullo colt drops his head a little, humming his tune as he takes a few exaggerated steps into the shadows. For his eyes these dark places are hazy, black static. He twitches his nose, but he knows there is no scent to find.
The sound of the earth against Haunt’s hooves are what he follows, once his twitching blue ears pinpoint the direction. He springs after the other child, careful not to trip or bounce himself into a tree, and his eyes catch on a place where the shadows are a little blacker, inky darkness that eats up the last brave bits of light that try to reach it. Haunt.
Racing close the mustang colt reaches out to nip the pitch-black shoulder he knows is there, before reaching up to pull at Haunt’s short dark mane and rough-house a bit. He likes that he can play harder with Haunt than with his other two almost-siblings. Misfit’s laughter rings through the shadows and he nibbles at the back of his friend’s jaw. He prefers the light, but when they are together this cool darkness feels just as inviting.
Misfit squeals when the dark child suddenly tugs his tail, and he bucks and whirls toward the peals of giggles but his flashing blue eyes cannot pick the shape of his shadow friend out of the darkness in which they love to play. The grullo colt drops his head a little, humming his tune as he takes a few exaggerated steps into the shadows. For his eyes these dark places are hazy, black static. He twitches his nose, but he knows there is no scent to find.
The sound of the earth against Haunt’s hooves are what he follows, once his twitching blue ears pinpoint the direction. He springs after the other child, careful not to trip or bounce himself into a tree, and his eyes catch on a place where the shadows are a little blacker, inky darkness that eats up the last brave bits of light that try to reach it. Haunt.
Racing close the mustang colt reaches out to nip the pitch-black shoulder he knows is there, before reaching up to pull at Haunt’s short dark mane and rough-house a bit. He likes that he can play harder with Haunt than with his other two almost-siblings. Misfit’s laughter rings through the shadows and he nibbles at the back of his friend’s jaw. He prefers the light, but when they are together this cool darkness feels just as inviting.
Misfit
i wouldn't love me neither
@[Haunt]
