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The turn of events took him rather by surprise, as if speaking to the darkness could allow one to automatically manifest exactly what they wanted. Except, they were different, clearly, in both appearance and mannerisms. One looked rather like himself, but smaller and white, like fresh coat of snow, while the other was darker, either brown or black like he himself was. The first sported an elegant twisting pair of antlers that sprouted as many prongs as a hunter's lifetime prize buck. The second, more like him in build, rather than having a great, blundering facial protrusion had an elegant pair of wings sprouting from his shoulders, well-sprung and certainly attention grabbing. It was, well, very different . The first voice to grab him was that of the mare, elegant, lilting, and perhaps just a tad suggestive, but that much was lost on him. "Sorry, no, not you..." he trailed off. He didn't seem to see much point in convincing her of anything. Females never had been his strong point.
"...Stark..." he responded, when she offered her name and locale. "Never heard of it. Frankly, I'm not sure I'd be perfect for anywhere." It seemed such an understatement. He was large, bulky, unruly, and not particularly intelligent. Perfect, in his mind, was someone who came with the initiative to get something done, not someone with the bulk to. He really had no idea just how perfect he really was. The more she spoke, the more questions that assaulted his poor, abused cranium, and caused him to wrinkle the skin above his eyes in confusion. "Why exactly would racism be a staple of herd living?" It wasn't that he was opposed to the idea, he'd just never lived with it before. She looked like he did, was there some ingrained function in their DNA that said 'you know, you're really supposed to dislike this bunch?' Was he faulty because he didn't? "I suppose I just don't know how to be a....unicorn did you say, very well? I've never known anyone who looked like me besides my parents. This... thing has always just been a disadvantage. " It had been, really. Always slamming into trees, having to measure more carefully where he was going, unable to interact with his companions in any sort of the awkward facial social gestures because he was afraid of poking their eyes out. He was quite far from perfect.
And then the other one spoke, and he wasn't nearly as kind as the first. The words weren't an assault on Stark himself, and he wasn't jumping up and down to defend her pride, but he didn't understand the situation. Was this where the tensions were, the racism that the white mare had mentioned? He looked the stallion up and down, wondering if this was perhaps the time he ought to say something about not being such a jerk. But he didn't understand the history, and he didn't really understand either of the equids in front of him, so he kept his mouth shut. The darker one introduced himself, and he repeated what he'd already said. "Stark... You're a what?" The stallion had called himself a nurse, what kind of title was that? He was unfamiliar with it, just another thing that he'd never encountered before. Perhaps this was all just a bad dream, or he wasn't quite where he'd intended to end up. Guidance did not come in the form of sparring dark and light on either side of him, coercing him away from the other. He wasn't just another game piece, was he?
"I'm afraid neither of you makes much sense to me. Could you try it again, and perhaps a little less confrontationally? " It wasn't helping his headache to have people face off right in front of him, and he didn't know which side he was supposed to be interceding on the behalf of. In his own interest, he really wished they'd just both shut up and give him a simplistic overview. At least the mare hadn't said anything assaulting, he was just so used to expecting the response to harsh comments in his head. That wasn't how he wanted to make a decision, with arguments he was imagining splitting his ears. So far too many problems to make him perfect...
"blah blah blah."
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