farenjer

When I open my eyes... I see the light and beauty of the world. Yet no matter how hard I try, I cannot open my icy, blue, eyes. The stallion reflected the poetic words through his head, as he stood stiff within his small cave, head lowered brushing gently against the cold terrain beneath his dark form. It was rather warm for a day within the Basins surface and it perplexed him on how the mysterious weather could change so swiftly. He began uncoiling bundles and tangles of cotton from within their dried leaf homes. Hoping to twist and weave them later into beautiful neat threads. He wasn't sure what he would do with the stored cotton later although, but he would figure soon enough.

The sun, once hidden behind grey clouds, revealed itself to the icy tundra. Its rays of light expanding upon the snowy mountaintops. Allowing the piles of snow to mirror the hot light back to the sky. The apprentice looked up from his work to look outside the doorway, sunlight catching his eyes. When it began to shine too bright for his sight, he turned his head away, under the shade of the cave's darkness. The sun's warm essence spread across his face where it touched, and onto his dark, ebony leg, where it stuck into the light. As the heat rapidly extinguished from his muzzle, he pondered if he should go outside for a walk. This work had become utterly boring since the third hour passed by within his concentration, and it was quite a nice day out for a stroll. He could see the figures of several different individuals on the other end of the mountains feet. They looked like they were enjoying themselves.

Casting a gaze back at the threads, he gave a hefty sigh. Putting his work down, the stallion began dragging himself outside. It felt welcoming to have the heat pour upon his back, being in the shaded cave since he had awaken. His mind felt fresher and more at ease it had been some time since he could enjoy himself. It seemed, Farenjer was quite the workaholic, he figured as he walked stiffly out. Loosening the muscles on his shoulders and flanks with every step he placed. He wondered if any of the basin members would approach him, it had been a while since anyone had seen him. After all he was a hermit, and the only time he ever came out, was in the mists of cold night. Where he would drink and graze at midnight. Which was also what made him appear lean, skinny, and tired from such a schedule.