It is a cold, wet summer's day, drizzling slightly, the clouds a little frayed and a miserable gray; it's hardly more than a mist, the rain is, but over time is sinks into your bones and sets your head low, your eyes forlorn and your mouth frowning in despair. It is a very humid damn freezing cold, Argetlam muses to himself, sodden tail flicking across his flanks. On top of that, the flies drone steadily on, not crawling back to wherever they appeared from. Insects! They seem to have come from nowhere, exploding into being and never leaving one's face alone. What a miserable day it was.

The horse in the sparse trees of the meadow on the narrow strip of land between the Threshold and the Foothills looks quite a damp sight, by any means. A dark gray coat, dappled and ringed with brilliant white and legs blackened to a sooty ink, turned wholly black from the wet. For now the rain begins to fall heavier, graying out the world into a drab palette of colors. His mane, dusty and dirty, as well as his tail, is in for a washing, which is perhaps a good thing. Before, it had matted and congealed into a stiff sort of texture a bit like cardboard and straw; now it was dark wet silver-gold and, while sopping wet, clean at the very least.

It feels funny to be so clean after many months of dust and dirt layering upon the normally somewhat filthy stallion, Argetlam finds, and despite his... wetness, he certainly looks more attractive with the layer of collective... debris gone. Well-muscled, sturdy, tall; handsome in a rugged way. He would look a fine warrior, if he had the mind for it. But however hard they tried to bend him to become a fighter, he never stood for it. Luckily for him, most horses seemed to bounce off his considerable bulk anyways, and he suffered minimal damage.

Nevertheless, his refusal to fight and instead craft horseshoes, metal barrettes and pretty metal jewelry had sent him away from home.

OOC: Set in the thin line between Threshold and Foothills; a meadow littered with boulders and rocks, and small hills, a very diverse terrain. One or two trees; Argetlam is sheltered under one of the largest rock mini-drops with a tree overhanging it.

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