Falls

The mare seems enraptured by something, though Bacardi is clueless to what it might be that she sees. He is not vain enough to think that it is him that makes her stare in such a way. And the realization and change of her expression is only a confirmation to his thoughts. She gathers herself, finally speaking, though seeming to need a bit more time to fully recover. Bacardi is ever patient, giving her the time she needs. His black rimmed ears perk forward, his head raising slightly. Although she finds familiarity in him, he does not in her.


"I’m sorry, but I don’t believe we have met before.” the painted stallion apologizes. Although, Bacardi feels as if it wouldn’t have been a burden to know her before. She seems friendly, and although sad, perhaps it would have been fun growing up with her. He can see that they are close to the same age. Why did it seem that those he met of his own age were always sad, including himself? Perhaps it was the timing of the war that was to blame.


"I have family on Luthien.” Bacardi comes to realize, saying it out loud. His father, as far as he knew, still lived on that island. Surely he would have other children there too that he might look close enough to, to be familiar to her? "My sire’s name is Ruger.” he explained, not sure if that would help or not. "My name is Bacardi.” he added, realizing a bit late that he had forgotten his manners.

three years. mutt. bay tobiano. fourteen three hands. of the bay.

"...speech"