` mares eat oats [open]

[Hattie]

Shay was treading the line, and quite aware of it, but there was just something about the mountain wood that called to him in spite of the risks it posed. He'd always felt more at home here among the trees that out on the open hills where he and his mother had made their home for most of his life. He figured it was something of his father in him that made him feel this way since Jocosta had been a Highland mare through and through... Then again it was also his fathers fault that he had to tread so lightly here. Royals, pure royals, did not take kindly to his presence. There were half-bloods aplenty here, but Shay was seen as something even less than that. His mother hadn't been a part of the Royal harem, just a lovesick filly from the backwood, a lowly commoner who'd whisked away her only claim to power and drifted suddenly back into oblivion. Shay had made his presence known since her passing, and now when he crossed paths with any of the higher ranking Monarchists he could practically feel the distrust and dislike rolling off of them.

Most, he was certain, thought he would try and use his blood to gain rank among them. The notion disgusted him, as if he really had any sort of claim, as if he would use the leverage if he had it. They were paranoid the lot of them; assuming that because they were power-hungry manipulators that everyone must be. It was that infuriating attitude that often kept him from this, his true home.

Not tonight though, tonight he would move through this forest with his head held high, having just as much right to be there as any other horse. He had not chosen to come after dark specifically to avoid other equines, though that was a definite benefit, but rather to avoid the sweltering heat and humidity that had plagued the Homelands as of late. Even now with the sun long set the air hung thick and stagnate and sweat darkened his hide. However, heat aside, Shay was rather enjoying his midnight trek. The moon and stars offered a lovely glow to see by, dappling his mousy hide to the point of near invisibility as he grunted his way up the steep incline.

There was something very satisfying about vocalizing his exertion, as if grunting relieved some of the strain; something in the noise itself was just pleasing to him in an inexplicable way. Looking for reason to keep up the chorus, Shay redoubled his efforts, moving steadily upward against the restraint of the hot night air. He would leave again soon, as he knew he must but for now he found pleasure in scouring the hillside, feeling more at home than he had in months.

[incipher]

Moonshine: she worshiped the delicate whisper of pale milky light as it bathed the treetops and summer-scorched abode, the pin-prick spirals of white flitting through the ivy curls of her hair, the gentle collapsing against the heat of her flesh, and dancing, always dancing, within the sundrops of her eyes. She couldn’t remember why leaving then had been so important, but she knew now that it was the moon that drew her back – no place was quite as bright as the Gaderian mountains, and especially not at night. Here, the grass shimmered as white fingertips caressed the surface of their viridian skins. Here, the leaves rustled the sweet swooning of a yearning twilit breeze, the boyish North wind pined for his mistress so. Here, she knew her footing, her place and her purpose, and she knew it all the most as the moon bewitched her with a luminous and woeful smile. Here, Adaline knew she was home.

So why did it feel so wrong?

Pensive, frowning, the ivory-haired damsel precariously picked her path up the mountain side. Every step was fragile, yet sure-footed, and she performed these motions with the eloquence of one who had waltzed from the time they were three – it wasn’t the sway of her hips or the windswept motion of her wild hair, no, it was the act of walking on egg-shells. She encroached silently, a tumor, an affliction, and one that was most unwanted at that, or her criminal swagger was a misinterpretation of the careful nature of her midnight traipse. She carried her head low in a most guilty way and degree; so, if truly she were home, why, why was this necessary? “Stop it, Ada,” Was it the regret of the first runaway? Admittedly, she had been terrified then, alone, and any child would have reacted as she had. Then again, it's not every day that a daughter sees her father slaughtered; more so, it is not something easily forgotten. And despite the familiarity and nightlight of the moon, she knew, deep within, that this place was no longer home. It was a graveyard.

And it was time now to pay her respects.

Before she could press further, however, she slipped on a loose stone, fell to her knees. The rest of her body followed and she rolled, a pearlized scream ushering from between her parted lips. She collided with a boulder just as she started to gather speed, and her ribcage crushed against it with a sickening creak, groan, and pop. Stars clouded her eyes momentarily, but cleared soon enough, leaving her head empty and vulnerable to the entirety of her wounds. “Owowow!” she whimpered as she tried standing only to be immediately overwhelmed with the regret of that choice. Her belly was scraped and a little bloody, but the real anguish came from her ankle – a sprain, probably, but a damnably painful one. She was too distracted at that point feeling her aches and lacerations to hear the approach of another, raucously grunting animal.

Or to realize she had a rather large twig tangled and jutting out of her hair.

* hope you don't mind the reply! n-n'

[Hattie]

Absorbed in his own mindless mission, Shay failed to see the the pale mare until he was nearly on top of her and the shock when he finally did was so powerful that he nearly ended up in the same predicament. A wordless excalimation of alarm escaped the spotted stud as he crow hopped directly into a tree, the unexpected impact momentarily leaving him breathless. Luckily he recovered quickly, though it was not as much a blessing for his new acquaintance. Casting his gaze about Shay quickly discovered that he had not been visited by a vengeful specter, but merely a fallen mare. Forgetting himself quite thoroughly in the heat of the moment, Shay ignored the off chance that this mare was a member of the Monarchy and leapt headfirst into a scolding as he attempted to collect himself.

"What in the name of the Mother are ye doing? Do ye no have a scrap of sense about ye, creeping round through the wood at night?"

Feeling somewhat more composed after his outburst, Shay shook to rid himself of the bark that still clung to his sweat soaked hide and regarded the mare once more. No longer blinded by his own embarrassment and frustration, he saw the truth of the matter almost at once.

"Oh, ye've hurt yourself."

The mousy stud did not feel guilty for his earlier statements, at least not yet. There was too much to consider now for him to ponder something so trivial as who was in the right.

He took a few more steps up the hillside, trying to better his view of the situation, though his new vantage point did little to better his understanding. She had obviously had quite the stumble, ending when she met one of the many rocks that littered the mountainside. The mare was in such a state of disarray that under any other circumstances he likely would have laughed to see her, but the pain she was in was so obvious that Shay found the sight more pitiful than anything.

"What on earth have ye done lass?"

ooc: not at all! :3

[incipher]

A jolt of silhouette and shadow, his unexpected appearance criss-crossed with her static drifting. The bound and flight through the air a ricochet of gun and trigger, and for a paralyzed sojourn Adaline felt remorse. Remorse, but mostly she was startled. Actually, his entire presence was an additional shock to an already unpleasant predicament and, after he recovered from his agile efforts to avoid stamping on her, the speckled stallion made his outrage quite clear. What in the name of the Mother are ye doing? And for a moment, she considered that this poor beast was dense. Do you not have a scrap about ye, and terribly, irritatingly dense at that, creeping around through the wood at night? Adaline glared through the tumbleweed of her hair, the tangles catching in her long eyelashes until she snorted, and they flew aside to rest behind her ears. She continued staring daggers as her feet worked silently. It took her three stumbles and one half-fall before she was able to collect herself, and her injured ankle she favored with the delicacy of a bird with a broken wing. That's when he realized it, and she could feel the swell of the epiphany as he inhaled, the gravity of the situation smacking him slap-happy across his high cheekbone. Oh, ye've hurt yourself.

Smiling coyly, "well, I'm glad to see your powers of observation are intact." Lowering her gaze to the swollen joint, Adaline attempted to apply pressure, but winced in mild anguish, mild ecstasy, as pain shot through the wiring of nerves. It was a beautifully tantalizing situation, pain. She remembered her first experience and the near euphoric implosion that had ensued; it was the most surreal addiction she could ever know, and yet if she had to explain herself to this stranger, what would he think? Instead of uncoiling her leg again Adaline left it tucked, and drew her eyes up, up the length of his chest and bulging muscles, noting the film of sweat oozing down his dark skin. She contemplated for a moment, the finely chiseled structure of his bones, their placement in the contours of his defined and noble skeleton. In this half-light, she could not fully appreciate the stallion, but what could be said of his shadow and musculature, she felt secure in believing he could do more damage than she already had to herself.

And god, did that sound dreamy.

What on earth have ye done, lass? Sighing softly and absently, she sheltered her face behind the wall of flaxen curls, gritting her teeth against the sting of bleeding wounds. "I slipped, and of course it was accidental." She hoped he could assume the rest of the details: her trail was obvious in the moonlight as the dust she had stirred up was still continuing to settle. It was mildly vexing, to be truthful, since she was a native of these mountains and should have known which stones were not safe to tread upon. Alas - she had been distracted, and she chose again to be so by his curiosity. For the time being, Adaline was in no mood to think of why she had come here. "I apologize," she began quite airily, her voice a purr amidst the whispering twilit breeze, "it was not my intention to disturb your adventure." His grave could wait until she could mourn alone. "With that said, I am not the only one to be 'creeping'. Happenstance drew you to me, so your surprise is as much your fault as mine, don't you think?" She proffered a Cheshire grin, and proceeded to wait.