Inventive thought was often something that held the stallion captive, as it did now.

He was watching leaves, to be specific about what held his attention, but it was not their shape or their color that interested him at this particular time – it was their sound. He had been thinking of music ever since Semira suggested it as a possible application of glass, and was occasionally lured away by sounds to investigate how it was they were made. Water was not something he thought he could mimic, for glass was not liquid, but the leaves?

They made music when the wind moved them, and their bodies rasped upon one another. In the seasons where the leaves were green and supple, the music was a whisper of heavy breath, almost no different than the wind itself – but the brittle leaves were a chorus.

The trills of Orangemoon birds are highlights in the notes, and as he ambles from low branch to low branch examine how they leaves are touching to create the sound and the general force of the wind escaping the temporary and movable blockage of foliage, mentally noting how each facet works with the other to create the myriad sounds of leaves in wind.

His thoughts venture back to the black tent and the tinkling of the glass objects as they met one another, and that recollection in combination with the leaves inspires a visual picture of an object that, he thinks anyway, will make music if its left out for the wind to touch it and strike the glass together as the leaves were doing now.

Taking more care in his observations, he now directs his attention to the size of the leaf making the sound, trying to compare the small to the large in their pitch and timbre, testing how each bore the touch of the chilly, autumn winds the whispered through their branches. Another idea comes and goes, more pictures of potentially useful tools – however useful instruments were.

But Semira had found them useful, and with word spreading that an open trading market was available to him in all four herds across the land of Helovia, he figures it is best that he knows how to apply his trade in as many ways as possible; the potential earnings of working with other herds far outweighed the time and effort it would take on his behalf, and it was pleasant to think of in so far as he would know things that could be taught to others.

He had dreaded the idea of teaching before it had come – but he’d rather enjoyed the feeling of being useful and talented while they’d made rope, and found that he was eager to continue sharing what he learned while tinkering away all by his lonesome. It not only was emotionally fulfilling, but also showed the herd that while the stallion was hermitic and not very useful for social matters, he did spend his time trying to benefit the herd as a whole – even while taking great pains to avoid them, most of the time.


[ OOC: He's somewhere in the forest, staring at leaves. x3 SO EXCITING HE IS. ]
@[Cheveyo]

memorablemoose & larfsalot @deviantart
dinpattern.com

Sometimes I wondered if there would ever be more purpose to my life than protecting those of the Edge. At times, the job was more than enough, when other times I felt as if I could curl up in the fetal position and just give up because as soon as I grew to old to move without much pain I would be worthless to the herd. Simply a sack of once toned muscles that took up space and food. And oxygen. But I knew that doing that would be like admitting defeat, which was something I wasn't likely to do ever.
There were a lot of things that I refused to do, admit defeat, fall in love, and die. The falling in love was probably the biggest fear of my life, considering I only had half of a heart to give I didn't believe it was fair to the one who would be so lucky as to even be considered for the slot. The idea of living without a heart once that half was broken caused a shiver to pass over my multi-hued pelt. It was a difficult enough task to survive the daily tasks with only half of a heart, but if I were stupid enough to give the other half to someone and lost that, what hope would I have in this dark and bleary world?
I had almost been stupid enough to give it to the emerald eyed bay, who had quickly shown me that he wouldn't have been worthy of calling me his to begin with. But that was all water under the bridge now, I was no longer worried about the going ons of the stallion with the flaming wings, other than the fact that he seemed to have disappeared after fathering twins, I didn't know much about him any longer. A snort blasted through rosy paper thins as orchid pools rolled about in their sockets. I had definitely dodged the bullet with that one, the idea of having twins at my side made me want to cringe and cry and cause something pain.
One day, I may have children but it was a day very, very far in the future. I pushed the thoughts to the back of my mind and continued wandering through the forest that covered the Edge in a wonderful shade that during the Tallsun was like a safe haven, but now that the leaves were beginning to fall that scenery was almost bleak. Almost. But not quite. A light smile tugged at the corners of my rosy kissers as I wandered deeper and deeper into the sea of reds and golds, enjoying the peace and serenity that was hard to come by as of late.

"more words."
Tag;; @[Dragomir]
Words;; 455
OOC;; God, I'm sorry this took so long. Finally trying to climb out of the pit of no muse xD luckily, Dragomir gives me a bit of muse.

peachesrox & larfsalot @ deviantart

Someone is passing by, which has happened numerous times today since he’s situated himself here to study the music naturally provided by the Earth, but never so close or with a scent that he recognized from more than herd meetings. It was odd, but the scent of the mare immediately brought to mind her face; an ear tilts back in wonder at the rising picture of a painted mare with emblems marked across her body, by the name of Cheveyo – a woman he had personally seen into her new life among his friends.

She, like him, had a history she didn’t want to talk about all that much, and he had his suspicions as he did with anyone who obviously held secrets that it involved a skeleton or two – mostly because his own secrets were clandestine because they were dark and would turn those who he wanted to love him away. The thought that Resplendence, Ranjiri, or any other of his friends would turn their backs to him was a sad one, one that quickly stirs him to life as the native mare struts past.

Unlike his previous object of his affection (for he surely thinks she is pretty and intriguing in all her mystery and hidden stories – who was she looking for when she had come to the Edge, anyway?), Cheveyo is a woman all her own, often as lonely as Dragomir was but seemingly as unperturbed by the notion as the young stallion on a day to day basis. His company was better met with trees and the occasional wild bird or creature that scampered past, doubt in his own capabilities and wisdom leading him to a hermetic way of being that occasionally was dappled with the unavoidable social interactions of living among the Sunshower’s chatty guild.

"Cheveyo?" he says to the flash of white and copper that passes through the trees, hoping that he isn’t wrong but managing to make his voice full and loud despite the anxiety that riddles him. He’s not entirely sure why it is he is going out of his way to talk to her, but it’s been that way with any pretty girl he took a liking to for one reason or another. That the painted mare was of the proper species to not mark his cherished things on the hit list of a certain Adalwulf was a bonus that will come to mind later, that he could love many he has met but is too afraid to a sad, sad realization that he has yet to make.

But it is fortunate, in its own ways; while lost like most men learning how to be such a thing, he has a set of guidelines by which to rule himself. A thought trails away to Kari, a boy with nothing but what little he can recall of the woman who birthed him and vanished, how chaotic the world must be to someone who had not a mentor in the world.

He really, really needed to stop thinking about Kari. Yesterday. It hurt too badly.

memorablemoose & larfsalot @deviantart
dinpattern.com