[open] Thinking of you is a poison I drink often

[Dalten]

DALTEN

THINKING OF YOU IS A POISON I DRINK OFTEN

He had aged, you could see it in the softness of the skin around his eyes and the elegance in how he carried himself. A true gentleman, with delicately chiseled muscle tone and calmly placed dapples across his shoulders and rib line before petering out at the tops of his hindquarters.

He carefully weaves in between fallen logs and oddly placed pines, working his way to the corridor which mirrored the river before landing a solitary spot off the bank where rocks had rolled and left sand reminisce in its place.

Dalten hasn’t aged much beyond his stiffer-morning ligaments and softness of skin around his eyes, however. No, he is still handsome in a restored-but-distressed sort of way, for the type who like dirtied hands and a few too many scars. Or for those who value antiques over the new and shiny.

He pulls to a halt at the river edge, teasing the bank line with the tips of his brown hooves. The water ran fast past him in a fit of rage to fall down the waterfall thousands of yards beyond his site. He couldn’t put his finger on which kingdom harbored the breathtaking waterfalls, or if a kingdom did harbor the waterfalls at all, anymore. It had been so long, and his memory had blurred.

As he lowers his head to drink, he hears the soft crack of a tree branch behind him. Curiously, he peers to his left, awaiting with strands of navy and greyish-blue dangling across his forehead. Awaiting the appearance of a stranger to follow the noise, wondering if the company of Beqanna had changed at all in his absence. Would he be an outcast? Or would he blend in like the fur of a rabbit in the dead of winter.

[Rhynne]

-a quote goes here-

The black mare made her way to the river. Maybe she was looking for a home or for her daughters. She has no idea as to what she really wants anymore. She had been thinking recently about her own dam to. She turned her attention to the the figure she had spotted and smiled softly. She was one to roam around instead of setting down in one place. She was ready to find that one place and raise a family there. She decided to carefully approach the figure and called out. She stopped the respectable distance away and said "Hello. My name is Rhynne. What is your name?" She did hope that she didn't startle the stallion who stood before her and she was sorry if she did.

*Rhynne

@[Dalten]

[Dalten]

THINKING OF YOU IS A POISON I DRINK OFTEN

He is almost unmoved as he hears the entrance of another body. Figures, silence is a virtue in the land of gossip and drama. Lazily, he cocks his hind right hoof in a cocked position to become more comfortable, to settle in while he still could. Depending on the company, he may not be here for long.

Slowly he turns his head to see the ebony mare stop at a respectful distance, enough that he could almost nod in approval at her diplomacy. She had either been raised well and most likely by someone who understood the respectful way to interact with new acquaintances, or she had played the diplomatic role before.

Or--because Dalten does love his plot twists as he fantasizes more reasons for her behaviour--she had been taught the lesson the hard way.

Her voice is soft (as most females are), and he lets it linger in the air for a moment while he finds the will to respond. It had been so long since he had amicable exchange of words, and the pause hangs as if he had almost forgotten how to proceed. A small blip in perfection, but Dalten had never worried about meeting anyone else’s standards anyways.

Not until her, and to hell if it would happen again.

“Pleasure,” his voice baritone and gruff and clearly underused as he uncomfortably shakes his neck, ridding of his nerves. “Dalten.”

Two words, and the silence swallows them once more. Leaving him to decipher his own thoughts, with the murmur of flowing water slowly filling up the space. It felt nice to sit here and appreciate the nature.

“Do you have a favourite place?” He asks, peering back at her only long enough to notice the flaring red marking painted down her face.

DALTEN