Common

His awkard lurch back onto his feet had only momentarily scattered the crows. They ducked away and began cawing at him disappovingly, still not entirely convinced that the stallion before them would remain alive for much longer. Switching the seaweed laced strands of his tail in their direction, he returned his attention toward the more green inland of the commons.

He doubted many did their socializing on shore when there was much better grazing farther inland, but he figured he'd take it one step at a time. The Common was really a bit of a longshot really, if he was being honest. Usually those that came here were snatched up quickly and escorted to their new homes with little fanfare, but thwat was definitely assuming that they were a prize worth taking home. Scarecrow was neither a fertile mare nor strong fighter, which meant that on the surface he was little more than a liability.

Very few herds would want to take him in with the hope that he had enough mental faculty to prove some sort of useful.

He could be useful. Or at least, he had been in the past. Back when he'd felt some sort of pull and desire to be a leader of his own herd. Now he mostly just wanted to live the sort of comfortable life he'd once provided to others, maybe eventually find one mare to bond with. Sire a colt to carry on his family legacy.

Or something along those lines. In all honesty, he really didn't think that a peaceful retirement was in his future. Life had a funny way of sprinkling in drama whenever things got too quiet.

Ahh, finally. He thought to himself as the pretty young mare came into view. She contrasted against Scarecrow sharply, dark and dramatic in color to his washed out coat and muted points. He isn't certain that she will approach - Crow knows he's hardly the approachable sort - but she walks toward him without hesitation.

Nice of her to notice, he thinks to himself dryly at her comment. Of course he didn't. Not sure of the last time I looked good.

A dry chuckle rasps from his throat as he stems the sarcasm, pulling a wry lift to his lips. "A pleasure, pretty lady."

"I don't think 'looking good' has been used to describe me in a long time," he adds with a self-mocking wink, ducking his head a fraction. "I usually just settle for alive."

She definitely thinks I'm creepy. He muses almost immediately after, regretting his own sarcasm. Some old, washed up giant relic making creepy ass jokes that only he finds funny. Great first impression, dumbass Crow clears his throat, taking pains to make himself less... himself really. He'd say less threatening but the only thing he could claim as intimidating was his height. He cocks a hind hoof, letting her know he had no intention of moving from his spot, giving her control of the distance between them.

He wonders briefly what her relation to Warsaw is. She had to be fairly high up in the rankings for Warsaw to allow her this far away from home at such a tumultuous time. Or, she was just flaunting her luck wandering about in the Common, waiting from some opposing stallion to snatch her away. She doesn't look like the kind of girl to go about looking for trouble, he thought as he studied her quietly. The mare seemed too mature for that, if this first impression had any sort of validity.

"Most call me Scarecrow, for obvious reasons." An almost charming grin flits across his features as he gestures towards the exposed ridges of his skeleton. "Are you happy there, with Warsaw?"

Crow really had no stake in the game here if she said she was miserable. He wasn't enough of a do-gooder to make freeing her his mission if she wasn't, but he was curious to hear what his mare of Warsaw's thought of the infamous stallion. The buzz about this war had reached him even back in the sticks from where he hailed and Crow wondered if the ol boy lived up to the hype or if he was just another young buck posturing for position.