| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK |
| Blu |
The sound of snow crunching underfoot was a delightful noise to stallion and dog as they romped through the woods with a game of chase. Ricochet would charge after Guns for a while, fore limbs lifting to trample the mutt, when the lead would suddenly shift and Ricochet would be streaking off with sharp teeth threatening at his heels.
Only when a tongue lolled out with heavy panting and steam billowed off the buttermilk body did the pair slow and stop. Breathless they grinned into winter.
In this freshly exhausted manner they wandered through the Threshold, lazily browsing as they searched for some sign of equine life. With legs limber and minds euphoric they were not as sharp as they should have been, ears listening but not hearing.
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Scree
"can't read my, can't read my no he can't read my poker face"
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Snow. It was always snow, the mare thought bitterly to herself as she trudged through the threshold. Though she had been on her own for years, she found herself wishing she had some sort of company, perhaps even just a mere companion to relieve the boredom, not to mention help her find some place free of the blasted snow. She snorted with annoyance as she walked along, listening to the crunch of her own hooves and the whickers and neighs of horses far off. She didn't approach them, for some reason she wanted to be approached by someone else. It gave her time to adapt to the necessary persona to best exploit them.
But what was this? Heavy panting had reached her ears, a sound that was distinctly not equine, accompanied by one that was, the sound of hooves, much like hers, walking through the snow. Her brow furrowed as a most strange sight intruded on her thoughts. A horse, accompanied by a...what was the name that her mother had told her so long ago...a wolf perhaps? No, no...wolves were bigger. A relative then. She dismissed her thought process. It was the stallion she was concerned with at the moment.
Watching him as she was enabled her to observe the stallion's looks without being caught. Down his face were scars, blackened and aged, perhaps even healed over? He had been good looking, she imagined, at one point. But the scars somewhat ruined his looks. She shrugged. She wasn't a silly young filly anymore determined to find love. His looks were of no consequence. His rank and his name, as well as whether he was a ruler or some other equine of power and ambition were. Unfamiliar with the scents of the tribe, she could not detect whether or not he belonged to one, however she assumed so as the scents of many horses blended together on his coat and met her nostrils.
"Sir," she called out, her voice carrying hopefully to the stallion, "I am quite lost and new to these lands." Her tone took on an appropriately helpless tone as she walked toward him, analyzing him with every step of the way. She would not be able to fight him, should he be aggressive, but perhaps she could out run him."Could you perhaps show me the way to some place where I can shelter?"
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| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK |
| Blu |
[x.x sorry for this delay]
A voice tugged gently at his ears, like a bird's flutter wings humming through mist. The ruined head twisted on the muscled nape and set teal eyes upon the approaching mare of black. She was a fine specemin; her muscles were faintly outlined in the taut drawing of her raven hide and it glistened with a healthy glow even with the winter's coat grown in. Her tones were sickeningly sweet and airy, but the intelligent spark in her eye suggested a greater character than what her helpless pleas implied.
And most importantly, she was normal.
An immediate smile spread along half of Ricochet's face, the other half merely twitching as the movement was trapped in the sensitive strain of his scars. The lopsided thing seemed to suit him better though, matching the dangerous shape of his eyes and the roughly spun set of his mane. "Hello," he greeted warmly, his voice a thick drawl of confidence and casual ease. He took any equine as a natural friend until they proved tainted or entirely weak.
"You're not lost anymore." Smug was the expression that settled on his facade, a natural placement for him. "Welcome to Helovia. I am Ricochet, the Incendiary, of the Foothills herd, one of several here." He tilted his head as she continued to approach, exhaling a large jet of steam as he breathed warmth towards her in kind greeting. "These woods simply will not do for the likes of you, but I would happily provide you shelter." Another tilting grin of a devious nature flashed towards her as his tail wound like a snake against his hocks.
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Scree
"can't read my, can't read my no he can't read my poker face"
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The stallion's lopsided smile reassured her that this creature meant her no harm, at least...not yet. She could not trust so easily, she had made that mistake before and she had no intentions of doing so again. Allowing herself to relax in posture, she pricked her ears forward to indicate her interest in conversation with the stallion. He bore no horn nor wings, not that it mattered to her, but she had noted in her few days here that those with them seemed to shy away from her or send her glares filled with distrust and anger. She posed little harm or threat to them, but they did so nonetheless.
"Hello," she murmured with a slight bow in her head, "These woods are not my friend, I admit," she continued, ruefully. Her distaste for the snow makes itself known again as she looks around. She has never liked the damp material, the feeling of it melting into her had never been appealing.
"Shelter, you say? Lead the way, good sir!" Hoping she did not appear too keen, the mare analyzed him once more. He was a good looking, younger stud, powerful in stature and bearing and perhaps even in position. He could be a useful ally. Carefully she tucked her analysis away. It would serve her well someday.
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| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK |
| Blu |
The mare was a ready recipient for suave words and warm promises. Perhaps it was the colt that set her feet so ready to run, perhaps it was a past nipping at her heels. Whatever the reason Ricochet couldn't say he disliked it, although the eagerness to trust someone like he so easily lent him a suspicion he was not familiar with.
Reserving his emotions a bit more Ricochet hardened his gaze to flints, striking them over her body with a purpose of niggling out any deceit that might be lurking there. He could find none except a similar expression on her features, which baffled him. She was a trickster to be sure, as any mare was born to be, but he was more than happy to have her on his side and under his name. So he smiled.
"Of course, right this way, my lady," he murmured in response, aware then he didn't even know her name. Did it truly matter?
Following the waving tail of his dog Ricochet set off on the snowy path he'd just come, mare at his side and conversation due to spill between them on the walk back, perhaps then he might learn her name.
[We do not need to thread with them in the Foothills unless you'd like, we can assume certain conversation took place, although I know you didn't want to join the Empire just yet? I would like a thread with her again at some point in the future though :3]
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Scree
"can't read my, can't read my no he can't read my poker face"
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Shelter. Finally she could have shelter. Certainly, she had no overwhelming desire to belong to a herd, but she would take what she could have. It was not a goal of hers to belong someplace, but perhaps...well, baby steps. She desired power, high rankings, prestige. She desired control, for her ambition could not be sated without it. And this young stag had to have some degree of influence, else he'd not be inviting her back to his homeland with such confidence. Interesting, oh so interesting.
"Thank you, kind sir," she replied as she strode out to walk alongside the stallion rather than behind him. He seemed to mean her no harm, had welcomed her quickly enough and she was pleased with this. Progress, progress, for certain. Perhaps he would be a potential ally, perhaps she could support him in exchange for her own boost up the totem poll. The possibilities were inexhaustible. She would be lowly at first, but it would take little time to change that. She had learned how to fight as a wanderer and had much experience to her name. It would serve as an asset to her.
[OCC: as I was writing this, I had an idea. She's ambitious, and sort of power hungry. It's likely that she'd ally herself with someone that had power himself and was looking for more. Eventually she'll be racist against unis/pegs, but initially she could just be sort of...on the fringes of the empire, supporting because she sees him as the horse to inevitably lead the Foothills on his own and because she wants to be on the winning team. I'd like to thread them together again, mostly because they have such similar personalities and because, obviously, she'll be joining his group eventually.]
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