| Zora |
| Mare | 2yrs | Andalusian | Cremello |
The grasses swayed, lush with life. Horses littered the meadow, some grazing, other sleeping, some even chatting with others. The sun was up, dipping to the west as mid-day passed. The cool breeze that came with spring, the lively scent of freshly fallen rain and blooming flowers, washed away the warming rays. Life in the meadow was peaceful, tranquil even. And somewhere within the green stocks, a spiraled horn peaked between the grass. She rested near the edge of a small creek, sprawled out fully on her right side. Cremello pelt seemed a white gold with the sun glinting off it, the horn she bore seeming to dance in colors. The heat of the sun had pale lids covering gentle blue hues, a sleepy look taking the filly's features. She's of Andalusian lineage, the arch of her crest and nicely defined head a show of proof. Perhaps when she grew older, she'd be easy on the eyes, but until then, Zora remains lanky for her height, a simple 15 hands. Life had been so boring as of late, so lack luster for the youth that the only thing Zora could think to do was lay in the sun and hope her nose didn't burn. She really should've been with others her age, reeking havoc and doing whatever else young equines like herself did. But she wasn't, alone in the green stocks of the meadow. It wasn't like it really bothered her, being alone. Zora had been alone since... well, a while ago. She never had been very good at keeping track of time. But never the less, here the filly was, basking in the daylight. Growing steadily bored the longer she just lounged about. A fly buzzed by a pale ear, the audits flicking in annoyance. Her legs shifted every so often, the cooling period growing shorter and shorter as her patience thinned. It wasn't long before the Andalusian was gathering her feet beneath her and standing, ears pinned back as she peered over the vegetation. Even fully standing, the grass reached up to tickle her neck. Zora snorted, clearly very annoyed with her boredom. She just didn't do bored. "Is there nothing to do here or what?" The two-year old ground out, searching the land with a small scowl. Her voice was young, child like. She looked and sounded every bit like a pouting tween who wasn't allowed to go hang out with friends. |
| The things that make me different, make me... me. |
@[brennen]