A soft breeze rolled over the azure mare’s bodice, smoothing out the wrinkles in her mane and casting the fog into gentle motion. It played with the wisps of her two-toned forelock and tugged lightly at her elevated tail. The scenery around them whispered quietly, the time shifting before their faces. But Abby didn’t move. Her icy eyes remained fixed on the fire-hued mare before her, who had also paced just a step or two forward to gather a better glimpse of the newcomer. Abstract just studied her. Studied the curves of her small frame, the intent, yet equally unsure look in her amber eyes. How she seemed to be holding back from the things that ticked on inside her head. Abby still wasn’t sure what to make of the little mare. In appearance, they were very much the opposite. Abstract was lanky, but carried thick-bones through her ribcage, haunches and shoulders. Her head was sharp, flat and defined. She had a muscular neck, though it was not sleek like the Arab’s. She was a mismatch of colors, having lost most of her bay sabino base to the onset of gray, she looked like someone had tripped and spilt a black and white portrait across her. Only her eyes and the bold white between them told of her former appearance, along with a few russet patches across the flank. The stranger however, was a bold and daring red. She had delicate features, like most desert-bred creatures and looked as though she could dance on air.
When the chestnut spoke, Abby tilted her head back and flared her dark nostrils once again, the hot air steaming out like a dragon whose nest had been encroached upon. Vashti. A very interesting name, one that suited her eloquent form. “Abstract.” was her short reply, which hung stiffly between them. Vashti seemed friendly enough, but Abby had known too many mares who “seemed friendly enough”, only to turn around and tear out your achilles heel. She wasn’t quick to trust because of this, though what was left of her childlike wonder begged her to reconsider.
“Are you lead over these lands?” it was a simple enough question, asked quietly, and as politely as Abstract could manage; a question that had been digging at the back of Abby’s mind since she first saw Vashti. If she was indeed the lead, Abby would have to learn to appreciate her, and if she wasn’t...it bought the gray mare a little more time.
Abstract wasn’t sure what exactly her purpose here was, whether she’d climbed the mountain seeking refuge, companionship, power, or just to know she had somewhere to go. Not knowing this pestered the mutt, but she deliberately pushed such thoughts aside. She would play this story by ear, and see which way the wind blew, before deciding what she really wanted.
GRAYING [AA Ee nSb Gg] : MARE : 15.1HH : FOUR YEARS : MUTT
Character and HTML by Snow
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