Notes
Weanling
[M0n:1350]
[D3v:willowsdance ]
Posts: 105
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Post by Notes on Oct 22, 2011 10:43:08 GMT -5
 It was cold start of the season but the pink flowers of spring were already showing. The isabella palomino didn't think much of them as he passed each of the tress that seemed to be cramped together in the small grass field. Brecken could hear sounds of the wind, others, and birds overhead. But to him, it was just a jumble of words and sounds. He didn't seem o be paiyng enough atention to name every sound he was hearing, even though they were the only sounds that were going in his ears. But there was one thing that was going in his head that he was paying atention to. It was his voice that was saing a lot of what if's. The constant thoughts had been going trough his head for a while. He had returned to the freelands from somewhere he couldn't remeber much of except of the sound of the beach. But it was faint, as if he sound came from a shell. Mabe he had never even went to the beach. Maybe he had heard the sound from a shell in the middle of the mountains or the desert.
The `what if's` that were in his head just consisted of what might have happened if he was normal and the idiotic mare of a mother hadn't bragged about his memory. What if he could have left from the small herd when he was three and not when he was only half a ear old. He would have been normal, not so hostile. He could have found a mare and fallen in love. But instead, here he was, a seven year old bachelor without much to live for.
It wasn't long before he knocked his shoulder into a limp tree, nearly bending it, as he deepened into his thoughts. The stallion slightly growled under his breath but kept moving across he grass field. The morning sun shone down on his head, keeping his head low, close to the ground, to keep himself from going blind. He sighed every time, he passed a shady tree and the sun once again covered his head with light.
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Post by Kenren on Nov 6, 2011 17:05:08 GMT -5
 It was quite the rare occurrence for Nexmason to venture very far from his mountain home. Not that Kalf Lake was considered terribly far from Selbrinar, but it was a noteworthy trip nonetheless for the stallion. He was often very vocal about his distaste for the southlands and the equines that lived there, but he did occasionally deign to descend the the freelands, though never traveling much further south. He had done so when he was young, following his father as he went on his little 'adventures,' but he'd never much liked the experience. Hot temperatures had been hard on him as a youth, and would be even worse as an adult - his coat was thick for most of the year, so he was as ill-suited for warm climates as the southerners were for the cold.
Luckily, the early spring had made the weather in the free lands slightly on the chilly side, so Mason was not uncomfortable even with his still-thick coat. The towering stallion was moving at an easy, laid-back walk, long strides carrying him as fast as he cared to go. The trees around him had new leaves, buds opening despite the chill. It would be awhile before fruit adorned their branches, but the leaves were evidence that they had survived the winter. Movement brought Mason back from his wandering mind, focusing sharply on a palomino stallion. He looked a little out of it, not really focusing on what was around him. Interest suddenly filled Mason - not because of the stallion himself, but because of the entertainment that could be had here. He slowly approached to walk beside the slowly-moving, shorter stallion, not a cautious thing about his movements. Fine morning, isn't it? he said cheerfully, in an attempt to, well, annoy the other equine..
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Notes
Weanling
[M0n:1350]
[D3v:willowsdance ]
Posts: 105
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Post by Notes on Nov 12, 2011 20:51:18 GMT -5
The sudden appearance of the grey stallion had certainly startled him as he continued into his thoughts. Normally, he would simply attempt to say a greeting, start a steady greeting and then there would be an inevitable goodbye. But that day just wasn't his day. Maybe it was the fact that he had gotten stung by a small bee who's mark still shown on his leg or the fact that he had ran into a pile of thorns, settled on the ground as if placed there with the purpose to harm a random equine, or the fact that his shoulder still slightly stung from the impact of the sapling. The stallion snorted at the ground before turning slightly to face the stallion, "What do you want, Gray?" The way the words came out seemed to surprise the Isabella. It had been a long time since he had used that tone, or maybe it was just the fact that he barely spoke.
As he waited for the stallion to react, Brecken took the chance to look over this grey. He was clearly from the north with all the fur that he's got. From the feathers to the long winter coat that seemed to make a obvious statement that he was from the north. There was nothing too special about him that pointed out that he was anyone important. He turned his head away from the stallion but didn't step away like any reasonable stallion would do. He didn't want the stallion think he had absolutely no manners.
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