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Dionny
.~*
13.5h – 6 years – uncomitted – male
by
Mothmona
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Sea air is tasty, but sea water's not -
Sea water's cool, but the sea air is hot.
Don't plant yourself 'til you've found the right spot,
But tarry too long, and you'll have forgot.
Had Dionny forgotten? Why was he on this craterous string of islands, to begin with? It could not have been for the location's charms. No, Dionny never liked the Sea, particularly when it dangled from the height of a tall cliff, as he was finding common around these hills. A brush of grass, courteously followed for its taste beneath a tree, could be curtailed between hoof-beats by a sudden drop. The territories seemed far too vast to bother with. Am I really doing this again? He knew he would be content to stay here in this little field forever, but... at the back of his mind, he knew that some other horse had probably seen every corner of the island. And yet here he stood, loosing.
But why is not the Sea air salty? Dionny itched his right back leg with the opposite hoof when shacking it gave no relief, but the activity had left him unusually tired. Maybe not tired so much as lazy. You poor thing, Dionny thought. So unused to solid sun that it puts you to sleep. It had indeed been a while since he felt the golden orb's full strength, tending to walk through areas much bleaker and less vacational than hear. But it comforted him little. He had heard stories, from acquaintances of acquaintances, of horses going mad in the heat, sleeping for days without waking or eating, letting their lethargy ruin them.
With that cheery thought, Dionny decided that itching his leg wasn't so tiring an affair after all. At least until he found some shade. He wanted it to be a cozy spot, not yet occupied by all the other dozens of horses that tasted the same air he did.
He saw several uncommonly pretty mares he wouldn't mind sharing a cool patch with, and some clever looking stallions as well who's company he could probably stand. Of course, with how long he'd been walking alone, he was ready to take whatever company he could get, but one should always hope for the best – some day, destiny might give it to you.
He ended up staring at the sun and sighing. 'Tis better to face one's misery head-on, after all, unless you're a coward. Which, in Dionny's case, was a very situational trait. It depended upon what and who he was being brave for. Of course, there are some who think that you should stand brave in any and all circumstances, never showing fear, but for Dionny, who was not the fastest or strongest but just perfectly at the unsuitable in-between, constant bravery was a colt's dream. Knowing when to back off and beg, that is a stallion's face of reality.
”I could be a stallion, if I liked,” He muttered to himself with the second half-smile he'd made since coming here. Wouldn't that be a fine mental image? Dionny, of all the worthless cuts, as a bonified stallion.
Oh, how tired, how tired the Sea,
For no one left it be.
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