The romance of the grove is not lost on him, not wasted displaying itself to his guarded eyes. The old stallion appreciates the vibrancy of the green grass, the blue sky, the sparkling water in his own, silent way. Ears used to constant pinning swivel forward, hesitant at first, wary of yielding to this rare moment of lightheartedness, but as he breathes deep, inhaling the crisp cocktail of vegetation and moisture in the air, his weathered body begins to relax. The tight, watchful telescope of his oddly proportioned ewe neck – a condition perpetuated by poor posture and lack of proper exercise more than any underlying conformational fault - loosens, angles his head slightly down, and begins a chain reaction of unlocking muscles normally tensed throughout his body.

The hard lines of his body begin to blur, and he sighs. Handsome is a far cry from anything he is or is likely to ever be again, but the effect is becoming nonetheless. From across the grove, near the waters edge, comes his companions surge of approval in response. ’Rest.’ He encourages, gliding between clumps of thick grass and the spongy, lime colored moss that crowds into every space they leave unoccupied. He wants to suggest sleep specifically, but even the thought is tentative, afraid to pierce this tiny bubble of positivity with such a jarring subject. He feigns ignorance of the frightening snippets of sound and smell and sight that flash across their joined consciousness in the small hours of the night, but he wonders in morbid curiosity what their completed picture must detail. If a fraction of the nightmare is enough to make him coil tight, hide his head between his folds, and hope to never be disturbed, how much of his bondeds irritability might just be displaced anger, fatigue, fear?

"With you? Not likely." The stallion scoffs, dropping his head to snatch at the green tufts tickling his fetlocks. "I must have gained twenty pounds already since your hatching." His own intestines have given up their gnawing long ago, but the cry of his companions empty belly is infinitely more compelling, as evidenced by the sudden increase in weight. It does nothing yet to fill in the trenches between his ribs or the inward slope of his flanks, but as far as the young python is concerned, it is a step in the right direction. He only wishes his digestive tract was quicker moving so that he might influence the old stallions eating habits - or lack thereof - more often. As it is, he'll just continue delaying his feedings, providing excuse and distraction until a few more days of grazing have passed, a few more pounds have been added, and the possibility of healthy habits has begun to solidify.


OOC // Open AF.