Pale hooves thunder across the pristine sands, the cool sea breeze ripping and dancing through the long, wild length of his hair. Throwing his antlered head into the air, Rohan comes to an abrupt halt. Fine grains spray from his hooves and his mane billows wildly about his shoulders, brown nostrils wide as he breathes heavily, green eyes alight with the rush that courses through his veins.

He comes to rest along the shoreline, looking out across the ocean. The Warlander doesn’t know if he had been running from something—his thoughts, perhaps? As troubling as they have become lately, ensnared madly with island waves and beautiful, mismatched eyes—but he stands now, silent and almost brooding. The Moon’s vaporous animals drift around him in a loose circle before dancing towards the waves, and he watches them with a distracted gaze. As irritating as the mist creatures had been at first, they have proved pleasantly silent company, and he’s accepted the fact to just roll with it.

His broad shoulders exhaling in one final, deep sigh, the Warlander lets go of his thoughts—rather pushing them away, shoving them across the sea’s vastness and off into the horizon. As if his mind could ever truly be empty, but he tries, if but for a moment. Green eyes seem to follow his thoughts as they drift, wandering pointlessly along the skyline—never actually gone, it would seem, but certainly dashed when his gaze settles on a stranger. Rohan purses his lips, brow furrowing as he wonders if she has always been there, but deciding that it only matters that she is there, he wastes no time in acquainting himself.

Flicking his unruly tail lazily against his flanks, the antlered stallion saunters closer to the mare, his swaggering gait every bit as proud and nonchalant as ever. “You look comfortable, sweetheart,” his low voice broadens across the space between them, a crooked smile settling comfortably across his lips as he comes to rest at her side. She is quite small, he realizes when the distance between them diminishes. Even smaller than Enna—but more solid, with an abundance of hair that competes with his own, and he can’t help but admire her for it (not that he needs much inspiration to admire any mare).

“Enjoying the view, are we? Don’t mind if I join you?” The Warlander’s eye returns to her from where it had drifted out across the sea, idly noting that Orangemoon is well on its way to them now. It won’t be much longer before Frostfall returns again, encasing them in an icy shell of frost and snow—weather his hairy body had been bred to survive.

Hardly giving the petite mare a choice in his company, his large weight settles contentedly at her side, the thick muscles of his neck arching as he lowers his head to accommodate their height difference. “My name is Rohan, a warrior for World’s Edge,” he gives her a dramatic bow, more for show than chivalry, his smirk deepening when he looks to her again. “And those,” he gestures to the strange mist-like creatures that float nearby, having nearly forgotten them as they frolic in the haze of day, “are a gift from the Moon…I suppose. Don’t mind them.” He chuckles dryly, hardly understanding them, his attentions primarily for the pale mare.


notes; Hairy horses unite!:D
“Speech.”

awake my soul