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Dawn washes quietly over the rocky shores of the Crossing. Low-light slowly creeps across the landscape and illuminates the rocky beach. The air feels heavy with precipitation and water droplets cling to the spring grass. A strong scent of fish and salt hang heavily in the air. The overcast morning reveals the true colors of the scene - grayish-yellow sand surrounded by bright green grass and a golden stallion looking out across the ocean.

Midas inhales the cold air deeply. The ocean laps peacefully against the shore. The water sings a lullaby to him, calling him into her murky depths like a siren calls to grecian sailors. He lifts his head, letting the breeze mingle with his cream locks. Turning his frame from the open waters, Midas looks back to the island. The Peak is barely visible in the morning haze. It looks intimidating as it towers over the Crossing and Midas can’t help but feel that its foreboding presence describes its inhabitants.

Midas waits for Rowena, his chosen companion to appear. She is a Peak mare, but not like the ones he’s met. He assumes she ended up there because of the past lover briefly mentioned in their last encounter - the one from Atlantis. Midas knows they have separate reasons for trekking to the tropical island but he is happy to have the company nonetheless.

He is not sure what awaits him on Atlantis, but Midas feels a surge of excitement when he thinks about the tropical island. His heart jumps and catches in his throat as he imagines those tall, willowy palm trees, the perfect white sands and the clear blue waters waiting for him. It won’t be long now he thinks and a small smile crosses his chocolate lips before quickly fading again.

Through the mist, Midas sees Rowena approach, her dark frame standing out against the natural colors of the landscape. His ears perk up, and he ushers a welcoming whinny to her. Part of him wasn’t sure if she would show up and he is visibly excited to see her again. Midas eagerly moves forward but then quickly stops, his proud brows wrinkling together as he sees another figure appear out of the mist. His body tightens and his bronze eyes quickly surveil the area as if expecting some sort of surprise attack from an army of angry Peak mares. However as the two mares come closer, Midas realizes they’re alone and he relaxes slightly. His eyes squint trying to see Rowena’s companion clearly and what he sees sends a chill down his spine.

“Macabre.” He speaks her name softly, looking over her familiar form incredulously. He can’t believe she’s still on the islands. They’re both older and wiser than they were years ago but Midas still has a special place in his heart for the small flaxen mare. She had been the first mare he ever ‘claimed’ back when he was a second on the Quarry and in his youth he had wanted nothing more than to protect her. Midas wonders what has befallen her since their time together on the Ridge - but he also finds himself not wanting to know. If tragedies have made her life difficult - Midas knows he would feel responsible.

His features visibly soften and he steps forward. Midas dips his golden head, “It’s good to see you, my old friend.” He extends his muzzle in greeting and blows softly out of his nostrils.

Midas turns his attention to Rowena, extending her a similar greeting, “I’m glad you came, Rowena.”

Tarrant x Vintage // Stallion // Palomino [ee aa nCr] // Thoroughbred x Mustang x Mixed // 15.2hh // 12 // No children // a fable character //