Watching the little stallion create something complex from the most ordinary of ingredients is always a fascinating event to the old black, never having learned a trade himself. He inches closer to the candy-corn as he bends his head in concentration, bidding the small red berries to transform into something extraordinary through the forces of magic and willpower, and incredibly, the berries obey. One moment they’re sitting still and benign, the next they’ve merged into small, hard ovals of a similar color. He assumes they’re made of sugar and raspberry (the two things involved in making them), but what does he really know of crafting magic?
"I’ll try one.” He announces, stepping past the hesitant Erebos and reaching around - way around - Wessex with her prehistoric style head-fan of bony protrusions. A loud
crunch sounds beside him as the mare immediately bites into her candy, quickly exclaiming how good the treat is. In contrast, the old stallion only holds his in his mouth, running his tongue over and sucking on the tablet, letting the sweet taste flood his senses and linger there for as long as possible. With an appreciative nod he, too, gives his approval, continuing to nurse the little goodie like a giant, elderly chipmunk hoarding resources in his cheek.
Suddenly, a new thought occurs.
“Can you make these out of anything?” He asks, a tinge of excitement seeping into the question. Other choice tidbits flicker across his mind, the perishable ones especially. They're often quick to turn bad, disappointing anyone who doesn't have time enough to enjoy them early, but a hard candy couldn’t possibly spoil in the heat and humidity of Orangemoon or the shattering cold of Frostfall. In that state, they'd keep indefinitely.
"Talk."
OOC //
@Johnny
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
![[Image: 56c616e54affc]](http://images.helovia.net/index.php/view/56c616e54affc)
