Common

Lorie had seen the male appear from her peripheral vision, choosing not to react yet as she continued to snatch up wet mouthfuls of grass whilst the male made his approach. How odd to find someone of her own build and stature here so far from home, a bit refreshing to be joined by a kindred spirit yet at the same time thoughts of her old home weigh heavily on her mind. Are you sure that's your child? What odd markings she carries. The accusations toward her mother couldn't have been true, yet the way her sire always watched and looked over her Loire had her doubts. Instead of voicing the obvious, she left; to save her mother the heartbreak and to keep from being a further embarrassment to her father's pure lines. The male calls to her then, breaking the memory, a greeting she happily returns upon raising her head to look towards him. He was pleasant to look at, admiring the fine lines of his own gypsy heritage for a moment. Goose; his name was intriguing, unique really yet simple. Her name held meaning, her supposed sire comparing her to a river that split the ground in two; likely talking of tearing apart the very foundation of the relationship he’d had with her mother.

“A pleasure Goose,” she warmly says, her voice light and gentle despite her large frame and form, “call me Loire. What is this place you speak of, the bay?”. Her tone sits on the edge of curiosity, head slightly tilted while she ponders what sort of land he hails from if not from her own grassy fields she was born to. Where exactly had she ended up now that she was really thinking about it? There were many questions that popped into her mind,but she kept her lips shut for now, not wanting to pester the stallion with her foolish thinking. The rain continues to patter down on them both in a gentle drizzle, the thunder dying off till it was only a muted growl. What could be better than the place she found herself in currently?