Posted on September 15, 2014 at 08:26:15 PM by KASABiAN
 And it's consequences keep you up at night. The mare smelled of the Lagoon, the scent that radiated from her hide made Kasabian strangely nostalgic of the time he spent there. It was as if he was thinking of better days, back when he was a younger man with much less responsibility. He hardly recognized the current version of himself. He never wanted a herd or his own sparce of land. In his younger years, the stallion prided himself on his lackadaisical and care free nature, his nomadic spirit carrying him over hundreds, if not thousands of miles. He made friends and enemies. He fell down, but got back up. He ran with others of his own kind for short bursts. But most of all, the stud learned to love the earth and the spirit of adventure. Herd life, he had decided at an early age, was never for him. He didn't need, nor want, the responsibility. He didn't care for the prestige that came with the title. He was no rule maker, let alone enforcer, nor would he ever inflict his own views and needs on another. So why was he here? What was he doing? The stallion snorted, emerald eyes shut tight for a brief span as he searched, internally, for an answer. But there wasn't one, not now, at least. He had no idea what he was doing. The uncertainty of his motives was perhaps the only lingering part of his former self that still remained unearthed. He found it unnerving that he hung around, staying put and standing guard of this place while the others who joined him here were free to come and go as they pleased. It was his responsibility now to maintain a safe haven for them. And for what? He didn't want them to bear his children. He didn't want his name to be remembered here -- at least not for these mundane, totally expected and traditional reasons. So why -- why does he continue, day in and day out, with the same routine? He didn't want to think about it. Sigrun speaks and the stallion is forced to return to reality. He stands before her, one golden lobe flicking forward and back as he tries to pinpoint her accent. He scoffs, a breathy chuckle escaping from his whiskered lips upon listening to her. "It is. It rarely gets very cold here." He said, a thick brown tail flicking back and forth over his haunches. Perhaps it was just because he was male, and oblivious to these kinds of things, but Kasabian did not realize Sigrun was pregnant. At least, not yet. "Your accent. Sigrun, where are you from?" KASABiAN 11 | Buckskin | Stallion | Arabian X Thoroughbred X Mustang X Halflinger | 16. 1 | © Vinyl |