T H A Y N E
Let’s Walk Through the Fire Together, Disappear in the Golden Sands
The draft moved slowly through the Thistle Meadow, the reaching hands of grass brushing against the thick pillars of his legs. A slight breeze on the wind rustled his ivory mane and tail, stray strands snagging occasionally on the purple thistles that littered the fields. Soft, piercing green eyes surveyed his surroundings, soaking up the rolling fields and the steam that flowed innocently a ways away. He moved with a surprising amount of grace despite his size, but it was obvious that by the way he moved alone, he was far from a sleuth. All the same, Thayne didn’t mind. Today, his thoughts were elsewhere, preoccupied by a different place in time… He was lost to the natural beauty of the meadow, and instead was locked within the confines of his own head.
Thoughts of Sliccic plagued him, of his homeland that he yearned for but couldn’t have. Had it really only been a season since he had been driven out? Chased from his home by a false, cruel leader? Giving a soft short of indignation, the stallion shook his head, strands of ivory falling before his gaze. Oh, it didn’t do to yearn for something that you couldn’t have… Since arriving into Helovia, the Warlander had met few individuals, keeping to himself and away from others. Even though he was a friendly creature who enjoyed the company of others, it was hard, sometimes, facing the day…
With a slightly sardonic grin marring his dark lips, the coal-colored brute chuckled, but otherwise remained silently. Weaving his way through the fields of tall-grass and thistle, the stallion only came to a stop when he reached the bank of the flowing river, green eyes peering into the depths of the water for a few moments before lowering his head to drink. The water was cool and refreshing upon his tongue, a brilliant contrast to his previously parched throat, and only after drinking his fill did the stag lift his head. It was then, idly, that he snapped out of his thoughts, mind stolen by the sounds of nearby voices. Were there others about?
An ear twitched back, a thick, muscled neck twisting slightly and taking in the scenery, and it was only then that he spotted two other equine’s upon the horizon. Well, one was an equine; the other was a Pegasus, but that was beside the point. Their postures looked defensive, as if they weren’t sure about each other’s actions, and from the unnoticed distance where he stood, Thayne took in each of their appearances. The blue roan was first, and to his experienced eye the steely-grey stallion immediately recognized the look of a warrior. She was beautiful, in her own way, as Thayne had a natural habit of finding the beauty in most creatures… Yet there was something off about her face, something that caused the Warlander to frown. She was sad, he could see it, sad, and livid. Whatever they were talking about was obviously not settling with the roan, and idly he wondered what it could be.
The second, the Pegasus, he rose a brow at. Her coat was a tan-sort, a Tobiano, it looked like, with her mane of a deep chocolate. While sometimes Thayne envied the winged ones for their gift of flight, he found hers to be quite peculiar, but nothing spectacular. Beauty, he had learned since arriving in Helovia, was common-place. It seemed that nearly all mares were extravagantly beautiful, and while he appreciated their good looks, it was becoming mundane. Natural beauty is what truly drew Thayne in… Perhaps that was why he had yet to settle down and choose a mate. Giving a small scoff, his curiosity grew as he watched the pair, green gaze watching in curious worry as the blue roan gave a mighty stomp of her hoof. Yes… Things weren’t going well at all.
Heaving in a breath, the large barrel of his chest expanded and then slowly shrank as he exhaled. Perhaps he should step in? Twisting his body, the draft moved through the grass, ears swiveling forward to take in the sounds of their voices. They grew as he approached, and it was only when he was a few paces away that he could truly hear what they were saying. The blue roan was speaking now, the warrior mare, and he listened with rapt attention as she relayed her tale. Her words caused him to stop in his tracks, and for a few moments he only listened, head lowering slightly. The pure emotion that raked her voice was what caused him to stop. The tale she spoke of was undoubtedly a recollection of her past, a tortured tale that none should go through. He couldn’t even imagine going through such a thing; throughout his foal-hood, he had been blessed with loving and doting parents, and had been urged to frolic and play with others of his age. Then, the roan warrior spoke of a lover she had lost… It was heart-wrenching to hear. Once her tale was completed and warnings given, Thayne half-way expected the Tobiano Pegasus to offer some sort of apology for her pain. Or at least something along those lines, as any mature creature would do… However, none came.
Instead, the Pegasus seemed to be searching for some kind of justification. The words made Thayne scoff and shake his head once more. Were creatures now so ignorant to forget what made life so tough? A youngster, she must be, to believe in foolish tales… Deciding he’d had quite enough, the steely Warlander chose to make himself known, and he cleared his throat, raising his elegant head and approaching the two mares.
“Excuse me,” he said respectfully, dipping his head in kindness towards the both of them, green eyes lingering upon the troubled form of the blue roan mare, “I’m sorry if I’m interrupting, but I couldn’t help but overhear your conversation… I must say, I’m sorry for your pain, madam.” He said sincerely, his tone bordering on sympathetic, yet not. If she was anything of a prideful warrior that he assumed, the last thing Thayne wished to do was upset her by showing her unwanted sympathy. “No one should have to live through that; what an admirable creature you are to have done so.” Next, he turned his large head towards the Pegasus, raising a brow curiously. “And, ma’am, the color of a coat does not warrant a legend; but the actions behind those that wear the coat.” If she was so legendary, then perhaps she could act like it.
Dipping his head even further as was custom in Sliccic, the large stallion spoke, the baritone of his voice gentle and lulling. There was no threat as he had spoken, just simplicity. Sometimes, despite how kind he was, Thayne preferred not to beat around the bush. “Ah… It seems I have forgotten my manners. I apologize, both of you.” A dark smile pulled at his lips and his green eyes sparkled slightly in good-nature, and he proceeded to introduce himself. “I am Thayne. It’s a pleasure.”
[ooc: I hope no one minds Thayne joining in? :D]
![[Image: ThayneResized_zps139f09ab.jpg]](http://i1280.photobucket.com/albums/a484/pyrocatch/ThayneResized_zps139f09ab.jpg)
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Born in the Arms of Imaginary Friends, Open
