They're too alike, in many ways. 'Self-imposed exile from society' is actually the name of Nihlus' indie band. And like Rhonen, he too had shared the womb - with two others, a sister and a brother. Life back then had been somewhat rocky, what with mum having to deal with the fact that each of her children had a different father, and that she was madly in love with one of them to boot. But all in all, Nihlus did love his siblings, and yes, back then, he had been more civilized than now.
But where's the fun in civilization? He'd never known, as demonstrated by his affection for a kingdom of hermits.
He's been stuck in his own mind, enjoying the way the wind blew the tree tops so whimsically, when the grass behind him rustles. A keen, glowing-blue eye turns to appraise the figure that rises from the earth. Red-skinned, tall (but still small enough to fit comfortably beneath Nihlus, should the opportunity present itself), muscular, and with a mouth to boot. A cocky grin is slashed across the Warlander's face, his eyes greedily scouring the stranger's body, knowing that he too is being so thoroughly checked out.
"Only when they're as lovely to look at as you." He's stepping forward then, swelling his chest, purposefully looking down his nose into the other stallion's brilliant eyes. The need for touch hasn't forced his hand yet, but there's a hunger in his eyes, a hidden meaning in the almost imperceptible tilt of his head and smirk of his lips. "The question is, are you always this difficult to find?"
He cocks a brow, smiles wider. "A right meadow nymph, I'll allow."
Nihlus
that's all I want