RAZVAN
male // paint // five // blue roan tabiano // fifteen.three // frost

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When Razvan arrived he was rather surprised that the mare looked so patient. The ones he had always been around were always impatient and rushed ahead of things. Maybe that was the difference in a lead mare? Her accent is different to his ears and he finds her interesting. He gives a dip of his head when she speaks his name to confirm her guess before extending his nose as they exchange breaths.


The stallion pulls away only when she does and so Razvan remained quiet as she continued to speak. He is still curious of her accent but doesn’t interrupt her and merely listens to her. She asks for a meaning of his name in which he is surprised about. “No one has asked me that before” he answered as he studies her a moment. His golden brown eyes don’t hold hesitation but instead questions though he does not speak them.


“My sire was but a bachelor man. He always wished to lead a land yet no matter how hard he tried he was always beaten down. Every mare he stole had a filly and it seemed he was never able to have a colt. Yet on his dying day was when I was born. One of my sisters went to find him and when she did he was taking his last breath. As she told him that he indeed finally had a son he said to name me Razvan. It simply means bringer of good news.” He supposes that she might not have wanted to know all of this but he has given it none the less as an answer to her question.
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