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Success. It was a sweet feeling, raising him up and banishing the specter of his greatest failure, at least for a while. The black unipeg, Loki he had learned, had not been hard to lure away from the gathering in the Threshold, and none of the others had bothered to follow the pair. Plus, it was nice to have another male to talk to, rather than the mares he had been surrounding himself with. They either were shallow, naïve creatures who held little true interest for him, or else they probed and prodded at raw emotional wounds, trying to ‘draw him out’, and ‘talk about his feelings.’ This stallion though was a kindred soul, another who just careened through life without caring about how others felt or the way their innocent victims were plunged into chaos and depression when it was time to move on.
And here he was, striding blithely through the same place he had met one of those girls, the silly young paint filly who was so enamored of him. Though during their last meeting she had seemed a little…odd. He pondered that, even as he halted by a flowing river and lowered his head to drink. The water was cold, shockingly so, and he pulled back a bit more quickly than necessary. Being born in a desert resulted in a distaste for anything cold, and he eyed the rushing liquid with disdain before turning to his companion. “This place is known as the Thistle Meadow, for obvious reasons.” An inclination of his head toward a nearby patch of the purple flowered plant serves to illustrate his point before the chestnut continues. “I’m afraid it’s rather boring, but usually there’s at least one or two others about to speak with, if you should feel so inclined.” A smile lifts his lips, not the charming one that many of his acquaintances are familiar with, but more of a devious, feral smirk. “Shall we make our presence known?”
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If I Said We Were Dangerous, Would That Stop You? [Loki, Open]
