N o t e

Note was not good at many activities. He could not process his emotions. He was unable to be kind without the help of Sabel. He was fast, but lacked the stamina to hold his speed for long. He couldn't craft nor spy, and wasn't particularly gifted with pondering the meaning of life and communicating with Gods (they terrified him, although he'd never admit it).
What was he good at?
Observing. He could appreciate the little details in a being. The bay could look upon a flower and revel in the sheer beauty of the sun's rays polishing every petal, or notice a contrasting color between a horse's coat and eyes. He looked upon life and earth as what it was: a tragic splendor of existence.
And that was how he looked at her. As a timid, tragic splendor of existence. Note's sharp green eyes refused to remove themselves from the mare, thoughts consisting of nothing more than how lovely her smile looked upon her lips, slightly gray like his own. He always found gray muzzles amusing when they were lit with a smile. Gray was typically a negative color when a smile was the epitome of positive.
"I am yes," she stated, her voice faint in the crisp winter air. Good, his scent was not failing him yet. He was only six years old, which wasn't elderly or anything, but he felt well aged. A great deal of events, both happy and sad, had been crammed into those six years.
'Brisa,' Note repeated to himself, letting the name tumble through his mind to be archived with the rest of the callings he had memorized. "I am as well," Note's words were terse, he wasn't good at chatting, either. "I'm Note, that's Sabel," the faded bay didn't lose his subtle smile as he motioned with his head to the lynx that perched upon his nape.
The cat meowed gently at the mention of her name, smiling as well as she could manage. Being a feline, relating emotion was rather difficult. Brisa moved toward the pair, extending her muzzle to Note's bonded. The stallion hesitated, looking at Brisa as he sent a mental image of what was happening to Sabel. Another difficult task for this particular feline, for the cat was hopelessly blind. Her pale blue eyes were unable to see, sightless for eternity. She managed, though, for Note acted as her eyes.
After a moment of careful deliberation, Sabel began to sniff around for the mare. Her scent was unfamiliar to the cat, which made it tricky to sort out where she was. She smelled similar to Note, making it increasingly laborious to find Brisa. Once she had sorted out the mental image in her mind, Sabel was able to find the mare's muzzle, letting her soft pink nose touch the mare's skin as she leaned towards her. Note shifted closer to the mare to make it easier on Sabel. While doing so, he lifted his muzzle to Brisa's ear.
"She's somewhat visually impaired," Note whispered, his gaze fixated upon the lynx who had managed to lift a paw up to the mare's face, attempting to set her paw upon her cheek. It was how Sabel got a feel for horses, placing her paw upon them so she could smell her paw later and permanently imprint the smell within her mind. The cat relied on every sense but sight, so it helped her quite a bit.
Note pulled his muzzle away from the mare, realizing how close he had been to actually touching her. His sharp green eyes flittered back up to the gray, a lopsided smile upon his lips. "Like companions?" He asked, speech as short, but seemingly gentle as it had been earlier.
Another quirk about Note. He'd never admit to how gentle he actually was.

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@[Brisa]