Chernobyl

Wandering in the snow in the middle of the night, typical behavior for the mare as of late. A blanket of stars flickering in an open sky, even the aurora borealis has given way to them tonight . Even the moon, grinning in her corner of the atmosphere, has yielded to them tonight. She spends no time admiring them on this evening though, they've seen enough of her abysmal black eyes, they've heard enough of her thoughts; tonight they'll hear someone else's, perhaps.

The frozen hills are buried in a white, glossy crust, its quite a struggle to break through with each step. Her lone form catching small bits of silver moonlight as she steadily trudges toward the highest hill and its small copse of firs.

A random glimmer in the darkness, a fierce metallic glint - she's like a cat that has spotted something suspicious, she freezes, eyes cast the attraction on the horizon. Her mind turns, trying to fish out some sort explanation, trying to recognize the glow. As far as she can calculate she has never seen anything like it, an investigation seems like the only logical solution to the conundrum.

Its a few minutes before she reaches...him? She is a hundred or so yards to his left, and unless he's deaf he's well aware of her arrival by now. He's surrounded by these oddities, dangerous and threatening looking. She approaches without caution, perhaps an ignorant thing to do, poking her face within eyeshot and stopping to pick at the details of his position with a scrutinizing glare. She's far enough away to escape if need be, though if he intended on murder she's got little chance of actually succeeding in an escape attempt.


“Hiding from the snow monsters, are we?” Her face stays hardened, expressionless like his own but the sarcasm soon breaks through with a mischievous smirk. He's rather enormous and daunting looking, if at all she cared for men or them being attractive, he might catch her affections...lucky for everyone she finds the whole 'lover' idea to be ridiculous, unless of course you're name is Murdock.

He is no Murdock.


“Wait...you're not like...sick and contagious are you?” It suddenly occurs to her that she should ask, making it utterly obvious she has very little interaction with others....

I can't tell one from the other;
I find you, or you find me?