Springtime was her favorite. It wasn’t so hot that the sun beat down on her black coat nearly overheating her, but it wasn’t snowing anymore. Dauntless felt frisky, she trotted into the field with a mission, she was going to find her a man. She had been kicked out of her previous herd; her mother had told her it was time for her to strike out on her own. She was a fairly small mare, with blood from all over. She hadn’t even reached 15 hands at full maturity, but she was stocky. She had a long wavy mane and tail and she was muscled.
She could feel the warmth of the sun on her back, and stopped in the field to graze, she didn’t necessarily make her presence known but she wasn’t hiding either. “I am not spending the night here; I’ll find somebody to hitch myself too.” She wanted to get settled, meet some other mares, start a family. She was lead mare material and she’d fight her way to the top if she had too. She wouldn’t be anyone’s sloppy seconds. Dauntless snapped her head around to bite at a fly, lazily cocking one foot. Her black coat shone in the sun, creating a good contrast against the flowers and greens around her. It really was a nice sight.
Well, she isn't a man, but she isn't the most feminine mare you've ever seen either. Quorra hasn't been here since she was here, looking for a home, herself. She begrudgingly makes her way back towards the field, glancing around for any 'targets'. Since abandoning her daughter and having frankly no idea what to do in her new kingdom, she needs distraction. Recruitment seems both a sensible and useful form of distraction, in lack of any better things to do.
The buckskin roan stands alone of a flat expanse of grass, day-dreaming and glancing around without much purpose to where she was looking. It was by chance that her honey-eyes wandered onto the figure of another mare (there seems to be a distinct lack of stallions around Beqanna at the moment, or so her musings suggest). The girl gives off an almost arrogant appearance, for certainly she is proud. That isn't necessarily a bad thing. The Valley might use someone like her, someone that knows her mind.
Quorra advances slowly, almost gingerly. She lacks the confidence of the mare she is about to try and recruit. What's the worst that can happen? The girl can turn around and tell her to shove it? Well, then she'd just try again elsewhere. No great worries. Or so she tries to convince herself.
The buckskin smiles, as warmly as she can muster, but it probably still looks forced. This is certainly not her natural habitat. She flicks her black mane from her face, to better square up to this new-Beqannian. "I'm Quorra, of the Valley. If you're looking for a home, I'm here to offer it," she says, trying to sound bold, sure of herself. It probably hasn't worked.
“All human wisdom is contained in these two words - Wait and Hope”
-Alexandre Dumas
While Pharaon loved the heat and the humidity of her home, the Jungle, it was always nice to escape to the thrill of changing seasons every now and again. The spring, with its flowers and blooms, its sweet green grasses and chirping birds filled the grey mare's senses as she wandered slowly through the Field. She took her time, allowing the warm sun to settle along her back, causing her glowing dapples to glisten radiantly in the light. She felt at peace. Though peace was often fleeting in the land of the herdless.. Often in the whole of Beqanna as well. Too soon did turmoil seek to rise up against their happiness. Enjoy this. the mare seemed to hum to herself. And for a short period of time the horrors she and her home had suffered of late vanished into the warmth around her.
The small, grey mare was here on a mission, as per usual. Seeking out new friends to join her in the land of the Amazons. So as her eyes light upon a black coated mare, Pharaon offered her a nicker in greeting. "How are you on this beautiful day? My name is Pharaon, from the Jungle." A soft smile rises on Pharaon's delicate Arabian features. Her ears prick forward in interest, awaiting the mare's response.
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Though the bay stallion has spent equal parts of his life in both herds and kingdoms, he doesn’t have a preference for either. Of course, he prefers to be in charge, and herd life offers that by default. There are such wonderful benefits to not having been born a female. For now he has settled in the Dazzling Waterfall, and he does intend to stay there for as long as the neutral kingdom holds his attention. That might be for a decade, and it might be for a day.
Today he is in the Field in his capacity as Advisor of the Falls. It’s not as wonderful a title as king, but he’ll tolerate it for now. His queen is a rather pretty thing, and he’d prefer not to make enemies now that his old ones have either died off or disappeared. A fresh start, he has told himself often, a new beginning.
The black mare that grazes alone in the Field catches his eye, but as he makes his ambling way toward her, he sees that she’s first been approached by another mare. Texas scowls, but the roan carries no ugly flower marking, and he relaxes when he realizes she is not an Amazon. The third mare though, she is grey and marked and Texas huffs his irritation. He is out of earshot of them all, and he’s wiped the sour expression off his grizzled face entirely by the time he arrives beside them all.
“Hello ladies,” he says, stopping a comfortable distance away from them both (though his attention is mostly on the black mare). The bay stallion is smiling, a charming expression. He doesn’t want to pressure them, and his smile is warm and he does not seem threatening at all. He’d have liked to laze about in the sun for a little longer, but the little roan mare seems to be in a hurry to introduce herself and her kingdom. There’s something of a tremor in her voice, and Texas glances over at her curiously.
“I’m Texas,” he adds when the other mares have finished speaking, turning his brown gaze back on the mustang. “What’s your name?”
T E X A S
immortal silver bay hybrid stallion
king of the falls
04-08-2015, 05:20 PM
(This post was last modified: 04-08-2015, 05:21 PM by Erebor.)
 We are at war. There will be scars.
Erebor comes to the field with a mission too.
Perhaps he's too young for this – after all, he's not even a yearling – but there is something older about him, as though he were born a little bit more aged than he should've been. He is born to be something more than just a horse, more than a colt, and he feels the weight of that expectation on his back. He might be young to carry so many hopes, but it isn't an uncomfortable burden.
And so he's decided to strike out into the field, to try his hand at some recruiting. There is no rule against it, after all, and despite his youth he knows himself to be quite charming. And so he follows the well-worn path from the Chamber to the field, finding it easily enough.
The sunlight is gentle on his back as he surveys the area. He is black, like his father, and well muscled even at his age. No doubt he will grow up to be a strong fighter; he already has the bearing for it, a strength and a pride that holds him up like iron.
The land is far more empty than the colt would have expected. After all, is this not the land where those new to Beqanna come to find homes? Surely it is a place teeming with life, vibrant, bursting with choosing horses, considering their various options and deciding where to pledge themselves? But no, it is just a muddy, blank space, emptier by far than it could be. The boy is almost surprised, but his face doesn't show the emotion. He is a born stoic.
His eyes land on a young mare, older than him but still not aged. He notes the small crowd gathering around him, recognizing the stallion Texas who had come to the Chamber not so long ago. None of the others are familiar to the boy. He approaches them all at an even pace; bounding and bouncing around was always too inefficient for his tastes. Reaching the group, he nods to each horse in turn, meeting their eyes in a friendly way, a small smile on his young lips. "Good afternoon" he offers to the group at large before focusing his attention on the horse who doesn't smell entirely of Beqanna.
"Erebor, ma'am." he addresses the mare directly. For such a young colt, his voice is remarkably smooth and rich. "You've got quite a crowd." he says to her, a hint of amusement in his voice. It's so easy to forget how young he is.
And that isn't at all accidental. Erebor Native Prince of the Chamber warship x straia
Dauntless was still grazing when she heard a crackling sound behind her, curious, she whipped her head around. She saw a mare approaching her, her ears flicked in the direction of the dame and she dipped her head in acknowledgement. After the mare spoke she pondered for a minute, “I’m Dauntless. What is the valley?”
She lazily cocked her back foot. At this point another mare approached, she was gray, Arabian by the looks of it, and friendly, and she also noticed a marking on the mare. Catching herself staring at it she averted her eyes. Dauntless nickered back, noticing a stallion had stopped a short distance from the group. He was quite a bit larger than she was and exuded confidence. He stopped and asked her name as well.
“I’m Dauntless, I’m well Pharaon. Where is this jungle exactly?” She wondered if that marking had anything to do with the jungle, if she would be able to nurse her sense of adventure there, and if she could still have a family.
She nodded at the stallion, flicking her tail in acknowledgement of his presence. She turned her head catching yet another approaching her. This one seemed a little different. She’s glad he could find this predicament humorous. It was a beautiful day though and so she enjoyed the company.
“Well, I suppose it’s a good thing, I’m not much for being lonely. Something is strange about you though…”
She hoped she hadn’t offended him, but then again she didn’t have much of a filter. She wondered what the first mare had wanted, and where this all would take her. All she did know is that she didn’t want to be here after sunset, she enjoyed a good brawl as much as the next one but that’s easy to say when you have somewhere to go home to.
“All human wisdom is contained in these two words - Wait and Hope”
-Alexandre Dumas
Pharaon knew others would also approach the mare. It is rare for conversations to be quiet and crowds small in the Field. But as they all neared the gathering, a smile graced the little grey's lips, as always. The more the merrier, she believed. She was always in the mood to make new friends, so why not get to know the others that had come recruiting as well? Quorra from the Valley had already joined their party, Texas as well - whom Pharaon had met with her sister Prague on a diplomatic mission once prior.. Though he seemed rather irritated and may not actually remember her. Then came Erebor, who seemed very proper, thought Pharaon.
The little grey nodded to each in turn before her eyes focused on the dark mare that drew her here. Dauntless she said before questioning Pharaon about her home. With delight radiating from her face, Pharaon's soft voice soft of her homeland. "The Jungle lies to the south of here, on the far edge of Beqanna. It is a beautiful place - vines, and flowers, and wild creatures. It's wonderfully hot there also. The sisters of the Amazons call it home." Pharaon's delicate head gestures toward the twisting vine and flower tattoo that climbs her foreleg. "Sworn sisters to the Jungle bear this tattoo. We are a family - not just a place to live. You're very welcome to come visit."
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When they are joined by a young colt, Texas turns to inspect the newcomer. It’s the somber boy from the Chamber, and Texas is not at all surprised that Erebor has recruiting under his belt as well as border patrol. Perhaps children these days are better than the children he remembers. This one certainly seems productive, and Texas offers him a small nod of recognition before turning back to the others.
The black mare is introducing herself – Dauntless. She asks Pharoan about the Jungle, and while Texas is tempted to interject that its location is just a little bit closer than hell, he manages to hold his tongue. She seems to think that there is something strange about Erebor, and toher than the child being remarkably well-spoken and polite, Texas doesn’t quite see the oddness.
Perhaps his eyesight is going the way of his immortality.
He does not remember Pharaon from their venture to the Deserts; when Prague is involved he only remembers her. The grey mares describes her kingdom, and Texas adds, “It’s really hot there, actually. Sort of sticky too, right? Real humid?” He asks this of Pharoan, because he knows that it’s true, and can’t imagine anyone every considering a place where one constantly feels as though they are sweating due to the heat and humidity as a ’wonderfully hot. It makes his skin crawl.
“While I don’t have a sisterhood to offer you, I do come from the Falls. We’re looking for new members, if that’s something you’re interested in.” He glances toward Quorra, who hasn’t spoken up yet. The Deserts are also scorchingly hot, but at least they don’t’ have the humidity to deal with. IF Texas had to pick from the options himself, he’d lean toward the Chamber of the Falls, if only because they have comfortable climates.
T E X A S
immortal silver bay hybrid stallion
king of the falls
We are at war. There will be scars.
It would take more than that to offend Erebor. He's got a pretty thick skin – it's part of the training that all would-be charming horses must undergo. They have to learn how to let everything bounce off them, to only be effected when it suits them. That is the art of being charming; to be so convincingly false, so incredibly structured, that no one even suspects it's anything but who you are.
He's no expert, but he's getting there quickly.
And so when she says there's something strange about him, he simply gives her a little smile and answers easily. "You mean I'm a bit young for this?" he asks, humor in his voice. "The Chamber welcomes anyone to its ranks, even someone as young as I am." His voice is congenial, pleasant, and arguably out of place on a horse so young.
He falls silent as the mare and other stallion speak their piece. It is his first time seeing the recruiting process, and he is very interested. The round robin style of the conversation, the different tactics that his fellow recruiters choose to take, all of it fascinates him.
And then it's his turn. "I could tell you about the Chamber like Pharaon told you of the Amazons and Texas of the Falls, but I'm curious." he pauses, his eyes watching her. "What is it you want from a home, Dauntless? What are you looking for?"
It seems a reasonable enough question to the boy. There's been a lot of telling her what each home has to offer, but there's been very little asking her what she'd like to see. Erebor Native Prince of the Chamber warship x straia
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