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truth armed with lies Posted on June 5, 2013 at 04:03:45 AM by d e x t e r
Dexter
"The object of war is not to die for your country...
The morning's chill had finally left after a seemingly endless plague of Dexter's skin. The sun was blinking sleepily from behind the feeble veil of clouds, and spring air seemed to be playing peek-a-boo with the frequent but weak little breaths of freezing air that danced off the water. The stallion's coat was brittle with salt and cold, and his mane and tail were heavy once again. He knew he would put up with the cold swim back to the heat of Salem, but all the same the bite of the air was refreshing and he wouldn't be ready to go home for a while yet. Though he knew he should be back to the hills before night fell, he had energy to burn off and a frozen body to warm up, and would use the time he had to do so.
The stallion tried to shake the edge of the chill from his skin, but found the action not actually helpful in the least. He tensed his muscles in preparation for a random bolt, with intentions to race the waves down the shore until he was hot and soft instead of stiff and cold, but before he could move a quiet sound of greeting reached his ears. Turning his face towards the source and letting his ears fall back against his pale mane, Dexter saw that he was in the company of a cold-looking and very pregnant pale mare. The girl wandered within a few feet of the stallion, seeming to note the rough cold that clung to his coat and skin. She did not seem to fare much better, but though she was rather poorly suited for the temperature and also alone, she did not seem distressed in the least; maybe a bit irritated.
"Idiotic for the sane, perhaps," the gunmetal-colored stallion remarked. His gold eyes searched her figure, watched as she shifted her weight to a more comfortable position, though he doubted any position was terribly comfortable. His legs itched at the thought of having to carry something so heavy for such a long time, and he thought that if he were a pregnant mare he would probably kick the thing out of himself before suffering such a claustrophobic sentence. Dexter did not understand anything about parenting, particularly the mother's side, and he did not wish to find out more than was necessary to command a herd.
He hesitated when she introduced herself. Introducing oneself meant that one must continue with the usual necessities of conversation, even if they were meaningless courtesies; however, Lady Glow did not seem too boring or empty, and Dexter was supposed to be practicing his sanity anyway. He tilted his head in polite acknowledgement, his muscles aching to run, whether it be to escape or to run just because he had wanted to run anyway. Or possibly both.
"I'm Dexter," he said, the statement coming out more blunt and flat than he had intended. He kicked himself in his mind and added, because he found himself curious, "What might you be doing out here alone?"