Caleb would be lying if he stated that an intimate revelation was quivering nearer and nearer. He did not desire such a relationship, and would feign hostility to be freed from ravenous gazes of hopeless romantics. In his first year of life, Caleb's father had always told him, "Don't fall for the wrong horses for the wrong reasons." At the time, the young, doe-eyed Caleb had little understanding of why this line would ever need application, but as he neared the age of two, this quote could not be more applicable. Everywhere the inky boy went, there were mares. He had rendezvoused with a few of them, but never attached himself. It was not in his nature to do such, and a frown would crease his jaw at even the idea of the steady approach of dependency in love. The yearling's heart was inhabited by darkness and shadows, tethered to dreams that left him breathless and quivering like a cowardly bitch. In a sense, the boy was damaged, fueling his desire to avoid love. With this emotion, he would have to open up, speak to whoever had caused his heart to warm. Just the thought of spilling the contents of his mind to anyone made his body rigid. One might say, love is off limits for Caleb.

His company answers his inquiry, explaining that she was not injured in a way a healer could heal. He assumed her wounds were of the mind, and his steel gaze softened for a fraction of a second. He knew how it felt to be broken, shattered. It was only out of good fortune he had been pieced together properly, back into a functional pegasus. Every once in a while, his ironclad mask would crack, revealing his true emotions. These were the days it was clear to see that he was not all that well. The girl stood up, and his gaze became neutral once more. His lids were sent a flutter as he got a serious look at her. His previous adoration was still somewhat evident, however very subtle. His gaze fell on her wings as they quivered for a moment at her sides. There were gaps in her pinions, where it was clear she was missing a few of her feathers.

He was a towering form, only inches from the height he would reach as an adult, but she had him beat. At least she did until he stood taller, allowing his head to raise slightly. She was no longer helplessly sprawled out on the lush ground, so he did not have to crouch awkwardly next to her. His body was dappled with scars, each one belonged to a different story. Each story was hideous, tragic, or unfortunate in some way. He pushed the memories of his skin being marred relentlessly as he once again refocused on the lady in front of him.

He approved of her and wanted her to like him in some harsh, defiant, wistfulness of his own. Black ears twisted forwards as he replied to her statement of injuries in a calm, mannered way. "Some do say that time heals all," he offered, eyes dancing with politeness as he continued the conversation. His gaze only left hers for brief periods of time to look at other parts of her remarkable body. She was simple, durable, and classic, yet she was marked in an unusual way. She was the first horse he had ever witnessed with such brindling. Silently, he wondered if when muscles in her thick neck tensed or flexed the lines would dance like the blazes of fire.

After a moment, she languidly dropped her velvet lips to the plush grass as a smile sparked across his lips. She was different than most, and he visibly relaxed. It was pleasing knowing she was comfortable enough to simply dive down into the blades of grass and disappear into the green lush. He decided then, that he wasn't sure if he wanted to leave her until the sky grew crimson and the sun set. Despite the fact that they had just met, he felt that it would be rude for him to disappear now, or even in minutes. It was the afternoon, so the sun would set within time and he would wait until she either asked him to leave, left herself, or the sky grew dark. He would not want to overstay his welcome.

Her name has been announced as Hearth, a fine name for her. His gaze is puncturing as he begins to speak, desperatly wanting to see her emotions. He craved to know how she felt. It was like this with everyone. He couldn't help but want to watch emotions glitter on the features of his company. Could one truly blame him? "Mighty fine name," he said huskily, his voice deep and rich as it floated from his jaw. Still, it was low and quiet, only for those in the immediate vicinity (which was only Hearth). Silence overtook them, but it was not awkward. Then again, it was a rare occurrence for the black stud to feel awkward.

He watched her eat the green blades, steady state following her movements. He made no move himself to graze, for he enjoyed watching her. Strange it was, but perhaps she would find it comforting. Others had. Bottom line, he naturally watched and observed. On some other day, he might've joined her, but not today. He expression remained neutral, revealing very little. Only the slow blinks of his lids and the careful, steady gaze offered any clue what he was thinking. It was almost as if he had taken watch over the mare, something he could not help. Everything within him always told him to guard and protect. This is what he aimed to do.

ooc: this was a kind of weird post and I feel like I lost touch with him :/ it'll go back to normal in my next post c: @[Hearth]