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05-27-2013, 01:47 PM
 Rain. It descends from the starry heavens in a glorious downpour, quenching his dry coat with cool, refreshing beads of water. Dirt and sand stream off his dark fur in sooty rivulets - a much needed bath, indeed. Water clings to his forelock, causing it to clump together as it hangs like black vines around his electric eyes. His mane sticks to his nape in damp black strands and he tips his muzzle to the heavens. He has always held a fascination for the rain, how it cascades down from seemingly nowhere at all, as if the ocean has suddenly flipped upside down and the water gently drips from the crests of its waves. He breathes in the humid air, his nostrils distending as his lungs inflate. The desert is a familiar place to the stallion. He moves easily across the sand, used to the way it shifts and squelches beneath his hooves. He moves toward a large wall in the distance, the bronze glowing dimly in what minimal light manages to nudge past the thicket of clouds obscuring that which radiates from the crescent moon. He comes to a stop once he reaches its base, curiously studying the etchings which mark it length, wondering what each might mean or if they have any meaning at all. He suspects, by the scents lingering in the wind, that his presence is already known and therefore makes no effort to announce his arrival. Quietly, and patiently, he waits, not particularly expectant but hopeful none the less. |
