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Snow crunches under the slightly cloven hooves of a buckskin brute, pacing through the skeletal woods with a purposeful air, though in reality he has none. Hues of violet and indigo draw his gaze to the two mares, and he instantly finds he resents their dreamlike beauty. Three, he silently amends, spotting the snow-white pegasus, another beauty. Bitterness rises, threatening to choke him and drive him to his knees. It is the greatest temptation to turn away, leave the trio of grace behind and return to his self-enforced solitude. However, his golden coat has certainly been noticed by now, so bright against the white and brown-gray background that he could not hide even if he wished to. So reluctantly he approaches, though his slightly flattened ears telegraph displeasure.
Even under the best of circumstances, the stallion would have been plain. A dark pelt of aurate, accentuated by deep brown banners and black stockings are nothing to look at, nor are his honey brown eyes captivating. The only truly noticeable thing about the stag is his curse. The smooth black horn that should stand proudly has been warped into an unnatural shape, curving down over the left side of his face and entering into his cheek. The place it has pierced through is surrounded by thick white scar tissue that extends over far more area than strictly necessary. Then, to add an even more grotesque touch, the spear punctured through the roof of his mouth and hangs cruelly between his lips in the mockery of a fang. He is well aware of how thoroughly the deformity mars his appearance, and many consider the beast a monster. Such harsh treatment has resulted in an ill-tempered isolationist, though every now and then he has been known to seek out company.
Silence is the only greeting he offers, the only one he can offer though he doubts that the faes will decipher this fact. He knows that among such ladies his disfigurement is even more prominent, and curses mentally at fate for leading him into their path. Yet had he attempted to slip away unnoticed, of course one would have been interested enough to call out after him, perhaps even pursue his fleeing form, and so in his mind it is the lesser of two evils to come to the group of his own accord. Tail swishes in agitation as he waits, certain that the ridicule will soon come and he will be allowed to leave. Or, if they are desperate enough to ask him about a land to reside in, he will lead them to the desert he calls home and then go his own way once again.
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