He had followed the forking river from the Deep Forest, feeling a sense of relief when he parted from the dark shadows, escaping the labyrinth of twisted trees and hanging vines. He squinted against the sunlight that assaulted his eyes as he emerged into the open, gazing across a browning field dotted with thistles. The spiny purple plants moved with every breath of wind, rustling against each other in a dry, rasping whisper. Warily, Roland moved into the open, dappled hide gleaming like a polished coin under the beams of sunlight warming the field. He continued to follow the path of water, cutting through the grasses and heather like a vein, distributing blood to the thirsting vegetation that lined the river's edge.

There was no motive to his wandering, no purpose or quest he was out to fulfill. This land was still strange to him, and he was not familiar with any of its landmarks or herd boundaries. He walked blindly, wearily, for fear he would step over boundaries and find himself in a place that was not welcoming. A headache pulsed through his skull and he paused, teeth clenched and forehead wrinkling against the pain. He did not allow himself enough time to rest, yet staying in one place for too long made him uncomfortable and nervous. He continued on, the sharp barbs of thistles digging into the sinuous flesh of his legs as he waded through chest high grass.

All worries aside, it was a pleasant day; warm and bright with only a few clouds stretching across the sky. In the distance the lilting tunes of bird song floated through the air, carrying from the distant trees that were the gateway to the Deep Forest; a dark and sinister line cutting across the golden field. He started slightly when his eyes came to rest upon the form of a creature ahead, not far from the stream. Her side was turned to him, and against the light of the sun the stallion noticed shadows stretching across her stomach as if her ribs were emerging violently from her skin. She appeared frail and fragile, head lowered to the grass. He might have avoided her, slipping beneath notice and choosing another route, but something compelled him to near her, confront her and scrutinize her emaciated form.

The mare looked old and pale, sunken in so bones jutted rudely from her skin as if there was no substance to her being. Roland paused, watching her for a moment as she grazed, sparse wings drooping at her sides. She seemed ancient and sickly, walking with sluggish jarring moments. There was a sick feeling in the stallion's heart as he watched, a warm wind tousling his hair. Though he did not know what it was, something compelled him to near the gaunt creature, silently and tentatively as if frightening her might reduce her to a pile of ashes, so fragile was her skeletal body.

As he neared, a stirring of movement caught his eye, and he noticed another mare lying beneath a tall tree, shade cast across her pelt. Though visibly old as well, she appeared in much better condition than the former. Roland’s head dipped as he approached, and he let out a careful, nervous, "hello? " Uttered more as a question than a greeting. His sapphire eyes drifted across the palomino’s decrepit form, lingering on the jutting bones of her spine and the bare structure of her tail. Just how old was she?

[Hope you don’t mind me joining in. Wrote this a while ago and then forgot to post it c: ]


walk walk walk
"talk talk talk"

The hushed, aged voices of the two mares in conversation reached him before he approached, though he only caught the palomino’s answers to what he assumed was a question. He eyed them with open curiousity, though true, unguarded emotions rarely were displayed upon his features for others to see. His greeting was unobtrusive and unthreatening, but their exchange halted as he neared, turning to study him. The stallion didn’t feel uncomfortable under the eye of scrutiny; he was often the center of attention and knew how to turn the focus onto himself, as he often did. It wasn’t out of a need to feel appreciated or important, but it was necessary to be a focal point in order to carry out a scam, or lure others into giving him what he wanted.

He had no such intention today, and greeted them without an underlying tone of malice, not a single devious thought lingering at the back of his mind. His sapphire gaze flicked between the two, resting briefly on the roan as she received him with a wordless grunt of acknowledgement, seeming unphased at the new arrival. Roland nodded politely in her direction, amused at her nonchalant behavior. The palomino eyed him with a strange expression on her face. The stallion had difficulty interpreting it, as she appeared neither pleased nor even indifferent at his approach, but he couldn’t tell what emotions played across her aged face. His tail swished against his hocks, snagging against the spiny purple thistles that bloomed in abundance across the sun washed meadow. The rays of golden light beaming from the cloudless sky warmed his back pleasantly, and Roland felt grateful for the positive change in weather and the beauty of a newly blooming Tall Sun.

An unforced smile tugged at the corners of his lips as the palomino’s nod caught his attention, and she greeted him with a voice almost void of emotion. Roland cringed inwardly at her rasping tone, as if she had not spoken in centuries, but his reaction was well disguised. He didn’t feel disgust towards the mare, nor the roan who lay beneath the shady tree, but a strange sort of sympathy tainted the way he looked at them. Was age a curse? Did they mind it, or was it the soft al niente to conclude their life’s music; relaxing and satisfying, a time where you could reflect on your past; what you’ve witnessed and accomplished, and feel content and fulfilled.

Catiously, he stepped forwards, thistles snagging against his knees. He paused closer to the tree, eyeing the shade before casting an eye up towards the radiant blue sky, squinting against the light of the dazzling sun. He was happy for the warmth, as it was a welcome change from the cool mornings and dreary rains of Birdsong, but the heat was beginning to make his golden hide damp with sweat. “Enjoying the sun?” He asked conversationally, blue eyes resting on the roan Pegasus. His tone was subdued and polite, no honey coated words slipping off his tongue or persuasive smiles curling his lips. He had no reason to beguile the mares, and would likely be out of luck anyways. They had no reason to take interest in his charming appearance or false compliments.


walk walk walk
"talk talk talk"

Roland watched their exchange in silence, sapphire gaze flicking in between the two mares. They seemed absorbed in their own conversation, and he wasn't about to interrupt, though curiosity kept him listening in. The stallion's forehead creased in confusion as he heard Cal refer to the palomino as 'Spe-shul', but he asked no questions. It couldn't truly be her name, but he didn't blame her for not wanting to give her title freely. She could lie just as easily as she could divulge her true identity, and it wouldn't make a difference; he knew all about that. He was used to mistrusting those he met, challenging every word they spoke. To him, everything must wear a disguise in order to be real.

He nodded in concurrence to Cal's comment, casting a glance across the meadow, purple thistles bending in the warm breeze. He did not lament the passing of Birdsong, or the dreary weather it came with. A warm sunny day was a welcome change. At first Roland didn't know she was addressing him when Cal next spoke, adjusting her leg beneath her weight, wings lifting. His ears perked as he looked at her, squirming uncomfortably. He was unwilling to give out his identity, though there was no cause for them to recognize him or know of his past. He doubted they could see through his amiable exterior to the rotten core beneath, sodden with manipulation and selfishness; but he was used to being wary. It took a moment for him to reply, weighing his options with a straight face, but he disguised the silence as best he could.

"Ah... my name is Roland." He settled on the truth, for what harm could it do when no one yet knew his face in this strange land? What could they could do to him? He hoped they wouldn't notice the interjection before he truly spoke, as if hesitating to think. Though a skilled actor when he needed to be, he had let his guard down in the company of the two elderly mares, feeling relaxed and comfortable with the sun warming his skin. It reminded him of his childhood; growing up in the company and care of short tempered nags, surrounded by other foals. Life as an orphan had not been easy; he had never learned what true companionship and trust felt like. Perhaps there was the smallest inkling of that here, where he felt unthreatened by the pair, and was content to remain in their company, enjoying it as he had rarely had the chance to do.

His gaze turned to the palomino as her slender legs buckled, lowering her skeletal frame onto the grassy turf. Roland suddenly felt very tall, standing above them, one hidden by shade while the other lay in the open beneath the beaming sun. "Do you belong to a herd?" He asked, prodding them for information discretely, though it seemed to be merely polite interest. His gaze lingered on the tawny mare, though he addressed them both. He had only been in Helovia for little more than a day, and he had yet to gain his bearings. Perhaps he was nearby the herd that Lena had told him of, the Aurora Basin, though he assumed he was not far enough north.


walk walk walk
"talk talk talk"