R I C C I A R D O
The Sandman.

Ricciardo was mistaken. Coming up to him was not one unicorn, but two! The steed, his mahogany pelt adorned with charcoal silks. Quite a sight to the younger sir's orbs, as his were different colours. One azure, the other amber. His horn too, or should Ricciardo refer to it as two horns. Magnificent glass horns, one long, the other a lot shorter. They gave his crown an almost kingly look, but not something he would dare point out for fear of over-growing his confidence. This confidence was evident in the sir's stride, the mannerisms. He seemed friendly enough, but he could sense a certain aggrivation for the dame. Now the dame... Ricciardo was taken aback by the elegance. A certain similarity between the two creatures, however, the duchess had beauty about her while the description of brawny befitted the steed better.
The lady was draped quite stunningly with a clouded ashen pelt. Her silks also ashen, while her orbs were charcoal. They had a certain brightness to them, they teemed with life from within her. Her crown displayed an obsidian horn with a hint of scarlet, the same colour as the ringlet that surrounded it. She was beautiful.

Shaking all thoughts from his head, he listened to what the pair had to say. d'Artagnan. Taken aback by the complimentary words d'Artagnan bestowed upon him, he listened intently. The sound of the herd made up of no more than his own kind tingled his ears, his sand orbs glistened and lit up his handsome crown. And then the beauty spoke. The way she mocked him evidently showed some sort of blood shared between them. Unless they were lovers. This was something Ricciardo chose to not dwell upon. Instead he got to the point, answering the offer that being was offered to him. "My name is Ricciardo. I am from the lands of sand and open water far away from here. I accept the terms, I would wish very much to become part of a herd once more."

The memories of his past swam round and round in his mind as he spoke, it knocked him round a little but he shook them away with a flick of his sea curled ribbons. Now was not the time to think of anything except what was occuring at the precise moment. The smile that the dame, her name still unknown to the brute warmed his soul. He couldn't understand why. Or more like he didn't want to understand why, for it was dangerous to be made so vulnerable. He stamped his daggers down into the frondescence, too keen to let go of so many things that was clinging to him.

He took one step towards the mahogany sir and the ashen dame, dipping his crown in respect and acceptance.

"Talk."