06-30-2017, 12:19 AM
Pale tendrils dragged the ground as he walked, soft hints of blue flowers littering the white and gray mess. His head was level, swinging too and fro as he walked. He had to toss it aside occasionally to rid his pale hues of the white mane that fell haphazardly in his eyes. With a small snort he soon came to a stop, scared lips pulling into a small smile as he watched the equines around him.
His dark hooves dug into the grass, shoulders rolling as he set off once more towards one of the many streams that cut the lands.
Flowers fell from his mane and into the water as he drank, the blue shifting to yellow the more they fell. When he had finished with the liquid he stared at his reflection, deciding to shake free what flowers still remained in the twist of white upon his neck.
He was unsure of what to do now, his thirst was quenched, his hunger there but not overbearing. Edonis assumed he should go speak with someone? But who...
He glanced around the meadow once more, tendril curling around his long legs. He was new to these lands, this much supported by the fact that he smelled of travel and dust. Whereas the others here smelt of salt , ash, and the plains they all stood upon.
Where had they come from? Those before him were all so diverse, wings,horns, glowing skin in mythical colors, eyes colored like gems. Foals ran among their mothers, stallions watching them from afar.
Edonis himself was rather dashing (so he thinks) 16 hands of white and gray. He was monochromatic, other than the striking blue eyes he possessed. He was rather mellow. All looks and no bite.
He chuckled at this, despite his thick build, and his deep colors, the stallion was a kind soul. One who would rather love than fight.
What a flower child.
His dark hooves dug into the grass, shoulders rolling as he set off once more towards one of the many streams that cut the lands.
Flowers fell from his mane and into the water as he drank, the blue shifting to yellow the more they fell. When he had finished with the liquid he stared at his reflection, deciding to shake free what flowers still remained in the twist of white upon his neck.
He was unsure of what to do now, his thirst was quenched, his hunger there but not overbearing. Edonis assumed he should go speak with someone? But who...
He glanced around the meadow once more, tendril curling around his long legs. He was new to these lands, this much supported by the fact that he smelled of travel and dust. Whereas the others here smelt of salt , ash, and the plains they all stood upon.
Where had they come from? Those before him were all so diverse, wings,horns, glowing skin in mythical colors, eyes colored like gems. Foals ran among their mothers, stallions watching them from afar.
Edonis himself was rather dashing (so he thinks) 16 hands of white and gray. He was monochromatic, other than the striking blue eyes he possessed. He was rather mellow. All looks and no bite.
He chuckled at this, despite his thick build, and his deep colors, the stallion was a kind soul. One who would rather love than fight.
What a flower child.