RAZVAN
male // paint // five // blue roan tobiano // fifteen.three // frost
Life was such a fragile thing. It had to be cared for and nurtured like a small plant until it grew healthy and strong only to die. How could it be that they all fought so hard for things now when it would all be lost later? Despair plagued the stallion and even the two loves that lived with him couldn’t rid it from his mind.
Razvan lay beneath the scraggly tree he was normally found under if not at the oasis. His legs tucked under his chest and his black muzzle resting upon his white knees. Golden brown eyes hid underneath his black eyelids as his eyes were closed against the merciless sun. His blue roan and white hide still lay taunt across his skin. More meat was upon him though and he wasn’t just a walking carcass anymore. His health had grown back, just as a plant would if nurtured correctly though the pain had not fully gone away. No, no matter how he looked on the outside he was always sick on the inside.
A faint and lonely breeze picked up and swirled the sands around the laying stallion. With it was news of a new comer. The scent tickled at Razvan’s black nostrils and slowly his eyes blinked open and he raised his head. Ears swiveling forwards, he tried to pin where the scent had came from. No use, laying upon the ground he was much too short to see the intruder.
Rising to his hooves a gasp tried to escape the stallion but he held it back. The pain that shot through his chest was becaming apart of him, something that he knew would always be there now. He could deal, it wasn’t like he had choice.
After he gathered himself back up, Razvan began his trek towards the scent. It was merely a walk he did because if he moved out any faster his breath would be lost and he would be drenched in sweat. Another thing he had learned to deal with. It was such a great thing that his mother had taught him to use the brain he was given rather than the testosterone that tried to fuel on the decisions of every man. Yes, he had learned self-control at a very early age.
There, his eyes had finally found her. She was a dark shadow upon the bright sand and for a moment he wondered if he had mistaken El Aran’s scent. No, this one was much different than the lead mare. Taking a deep breath the stallion let out a call to announce his presence to this mare as he still approached at his walk and as he reached her he came to a stop a respectable distance between them.
“hello and welcome to the Desert. Who might you be stranger?”
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