Common

A lazy smile stretched across the spotted bastards face as he walked through the area. This place was nice, everything was nice for the most part to him. This place wasn't like the endless grassy fields of his previous home, this place was for one much smaller and on an island. The swim here had been a long one, one he wouldn't do again unless he absolutely needed to. The reason he had left his homelands had been because the whole place had gone up in flames due to the heat wave that had hit the place. Water had become scarce and the few watering holes that still had water where being lorded over by the stronger equines. Carnivalism wasn't bothered by that, it was only natural that the strong should survive by any means necessary in dire times. He remembers the first time he had made his way to the meek water hole, remembered the stallion who tried to deny him the water. The fight had been quick, he had gained a few bruises but the brute who challenged him had lost an entire ear. The memory of the stagnant water mixed with the copper of blood was still fresh in his memory.

He lets out a small chuckle and picks his head up at the memory. Fun times those years had been. He doesn't miss his old home, he doesn't care that it all burned away either. Why should he care about anything other than the now? The past is the past and nothing even matters in the grand scheme of things anyways. Carnivalism knows he's nothing but an insignificant speck, that his life isn't even a blink of an eye to the universe. He's come to accept that life was quick and meaningless, so he'd do whatever he wanted while he was here. "Fuck it, why not?", was his motto and would probably be his famous last words too.

So he finds himself looking at a rather angry looking mare, all by herself like its her against the world. That might be the case too, but he doesn't care. Its time to ignore what his mother told him and talk to a stranger. Lazy smile still on his face he walks over to her, making sure he's within her line of sight. He wonders if she might try to take a bite out of him, he secretly hopes she does. Something about pain made living all the better, made him feel alive. He's got a plethora of scars all across his spotted frame to testify to his liking of pain and fighting. He stops himself when he's a few feet away and lifts his head up as he speaks, voice deep and guttural, "EEeeeyyyyy, hows it hangin there doll." His eyes are half lidded as he looks the mare over, she could do some damage if she felt the need to. Anything with a mouth full of teeth could do damage if they needed. He can feel the phantom memory of teeth on his hide.