The stallions knew of moonlight.

Born to lands where only moonlight shone, the celestial body that rested so comfortably in the sky with its pearlescent glow and patchy face was soothing to the brothers. Though their physical appearances barely hinted to such things; with eyes the shade of the sun and legs dipped in crimson, only their blazes which haphazardly streaked across their faces suggested a moonly colouration. Otherwise their hides were a deep, inky black, much like their sisters, who lived under the darkness of moon’s night time too.

It was what hid beneath the surface of the steeds that made them extraordinary. Madyrn, named for shadow, tended to behave more like fire, being a bit too brash and destructive sometimes, where his brother, Maskan, named for fire, was usually the collected one who behaved much like his sister, Mirage. Both steeds were well practised at guarding their emotions, though Madyrn’s were usually so volatile it was more difficult for him than the others. Maskan looked at the world through cool indifference, accepted things as they came to him and simply letting events unfold before him. They were the embodiment of their parents; together they were a perfectly tuned instrument, separated they were nothing.

It made sense then that the brothers would eat together on a night such as this. The Foothills was a comfortable realm to be sure, but the brothers did enjoy to have their charred coats bathed in moonlight. Their eyes, which had seen some things a regular individual might never truthfully claim to see, continually scanned the surrounds; always on guard, the brothers feared nothing that might come their way – still, that was no reason to be taken by surprise.

Wingbeats caused a synchronised raising of their chiselled crowns, ears pressed forward and curiosity evident upon their ivory-streaked facades. Their gaze softened from the sharp critical stare it naturally took up as they recognised this crème belle as one of the Qian, and with wraith-like silence their forms slunk back into the shadows. They were not socialites, more like silent protectors who sometimes enjoyed stirring a pot of trouble every now and then. But when it appeared that the femme was alone in her graceful and elegant display of acrobatics, the stallions could not help but be compelled forth to join her.

It was odd to see such co-ordination of limbs and muscle weave their bulky forms across the field to where the pale maiden danced, but the brothers danced as if they were fire and shadow. Madyrn, with his flamed forelegs in the air, represented the hot substance, while Maskan performed an agile move beside him, beneath him, around him. They snaked their way around Couth, pausing only to dip their handsome faces in recognition to her, before slapping on their rogue grins and continuing on with the silent beat that the Pegasus so beautifully began.