Jackal2 the King of Thieves Posts: 71
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.3 ½ :: 3 years |
| zz |
Faint, delicate burble of feminine voices draw him. One is heartwrenchingly familiar, and recalls the youthful face of one much loved - Kimber. A smile breaks the grim of his face, and his graceful rusty limbs brought him towards her at a brisk trot, hooves vibrating against the lush earth, stumbling occasionally on a still weak knee. Dei flies above him lazily, the broad spring sun picking out his scales in browns and golds and greens. Today is bright, and the lilting sonnets the songbirds weave only fuel the excitement thrumming through his body. Voices increase in volume, and his potent haunches slam against the tender grass, sending him into a lope. Nose thrust down and muscles rippling beneath a healthy summer coat, glittering with health, the King of Thieves is no doubt a sight for sore eyes. Pale scars lace his hide like fairy trails, and the dusty skin is dotted by spots, inherited from his warrior mother and her mother and her father. A grin serenades his face as he spots them at the border, where the familiar earthy Foothills smells fraternize and mix with stranger, muskier forest scents. He relents, faltering slightly as the healing pain in his left leg hinders his gait.
Two mares chat before him - his aunt Kimber, of course, and a grey with golden lacing on her back. Nodding toward the colorless mare in greeting, Jackal draws closely beside his ashy aunt, their dun hides, faded rose and dusty grey, brushing together. Dei swoops toward the familiar mare, trilling exhuberantly before settling on his bonded's back, eyeing the newcomer with ample curiosity.
The appaloosa swings his head over the mousy mare's neck, breathing fondly on her frosty mane. "A lovely day to take a walk," he muses, silver eyes swirling with amusement as they watch the pretty stranger; the conversation between the female seems friendly enough - there are not catty glances, only laughter and serene words. "I am Jackal," a smile, soft and reserved, winds its way onto velvet lips. His breath comes swift and hard in a broad chest, lungs winded by his exuberant pace. "If it is a home you wish, you are very welcome to join." |
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like the days of summer [foothills leads, open]
