e n c a n t a d o r
[my muse kind of crashed and burned, so it's partially recycled. i'm sorry! i'll do better next time. <3]
The figure was as tall and red as clay, yet quiet and unobtrusive. For a long while Encantador stood watching it, only half-aware that he was doing so. It seemed to him that he was merely looking at a figment of his imagination, for after living in the desert alone for several weeks, he had come to realize just how easy it was to be fooled by illusions in such a harsh, bleak land. He had never quite seen an equine such a precise mixture of coppery shades, and it was hyponotizing, dancing with the shimmers of heat waves though in actual fact it was as still as a rock.
The longer he stood watching it, however, the longer he became aware of his own bodily needs. His thin body, while no longer gaunt with malnutrition, nonetheless complained of hunger, and he knew well enough that once he had eaten he would need to drink also. In fact, now that he thought about it, he was much more desperate for some fresh, clean water than anything. Letting his eyes wander briefly, he prepared himself to turn back and find the oasis that would provide all his needs, but as he looked at the blueness of the sky, the hardness of the sun-baked land, and the undulating of the slate grey ocean, they all seemed so tangible and real.
Why then, was this illusion persisting? He decided to investigate.
He strolled towards it at an easy walk, his hooves scuffing across the dusty, sandy earth, with the sun warming his cream-colored back. As he grew closer the saltiness of the sea seemed to cling to his nostrils, and the breeze grew wilder, cooler: a welcome respite from the heat. But the figure, strong and silent, remained, and soon enough, distinctive features came into view. It was male, it was mature - a few years older than himself, he guessed - and despite its impressive build and height (in comparison to its own), there was nothing at all threatening about its appearance.
It was soon quite evident that Encantador was no longer staring at a mirage, but a real, living, breathing equine, with hair that was tousled by the wind and eyes that shone in the sunlight. Any other male in his position might feel threatened by the intrusion of a strange stallion on the brink of his territory, but he was not quite so self-deluded as to forget that he owned little more than sand and dust, and had no herd to speak of just yet: there was nothing of his this stranger could have wanted. And by his judgement, having noted the wet sheen on the other's pale sienna coat, this was not one of his Salem neighbors. Perhaps he was lost?
Encantador, though his stance was composed and relaxed as he stood before the other male, did feel the slighest twinge of jealousy as he looked up to meet his companion's eyes. He had inherited his dam's relatively petite build as well as her coat color, and would almost never know what it was like to look down on another stallion. "Hail, friend. You looking for someone?"
el barroco x writhe | four | dunskin | 15.1 | mustang | shiva |