The Moor

[Asil]

We're buzzing like that no vacancy sign out front Your skin is begging to be kissed by a little more than the sun

The silvered man slowly encroached upon the Dale, his marcha picada moving him along in an effortless floating manner. Hind hooves hit the ground slightly before the front do in matched pairs, his gait the ruling trademark of his peculiar breed. It had been a long time since the silver bay had seen someone with his lineage, there just weren't very many here. Muscles ripped beneath a spectacular coat the color of lightly creamed coffee, long tendrils of his mane and tail a beautiful silvery white. He knew how beautiful he was, and he moved like it, letting everyone see his strength and the beauty that belied his warrior's spirit. Asil was no hothouse pansy boy, he had been alive long enough to have survived quite a few dominance fights, though his coloring helped to hide his battle scars. His gait slowly changed into the batida, moving him along a bit faster but with no less grace. Arching his neck, he made himself look as good as a 9 year old stallion could, though he knew there wasn't anyone close enough to see him. If you're going to be vain you should be so all the time, right? Reaching a small glen, he stopped for a drink from a small stream, dipping his muzzle into the fresh clear liquid. Raising his head after he'd had his fill, water droplets sparkled off the soft skin of his nose in the morning sun. Cocking a hind leg up on hoof point, he relaxed and settled himself in to wait, knowing he probably wouldn't be here long before someone found him. Closing his eyes, he drank in the warmth of the sun upon his coat, nose and ears alert to dangers as he sunbathed.

You take my hand in yours, you lean in and Your lips taste like sangria

Asil

♥dante