Force-claiming is allowed here once a week per character, as is blocking force-claims by the Peak/Lagoon (as a whole) once a week. Rollover is on Sundays.
if horses ate popcorn... Posted on August 1, 2021 at 02:08:46 AM by Harrow
Harrow is a newcomer to these islands, but even she has seen the drama of the Common for herself. No doubt some would be intimidated after watching those horses being herded away by ambitious leaders, crying 'woe is me' as they went. Others might aspire to become those ambitious leaders themselves.
Not Harrow. Harrow's just here for entertainment.
She has mostly avoided drawing attention to herself for now, watching each little drama play out from afar—and sighing her inevitable disappointment to herself when, invariably, no one tries to fight their fates. A few words in raised voices, a toss of the head in a purely symbolic gesture of spunk, and it's over. Nothing changes, so what is the point? If these horses value their freedom so much, why do they not put hooves and teeth behind their words?
Then again, Harrow thinks, maybe that's the point. Maybe this is what passes for the idea of fun around here: big words that, in the end, are utterly empty. If that's the case, these horses must lead truly boring lives.
In any case, Harrow isn't planning on sticking around much longer. With the sun slipping beneath the horizon, the warmth its light gather on her is also about to be gone. With winter looming on the horizon, the evening chill bites at her lungs with each breath she takes. Harrow enjoys it for now, flaring her nostrils to take a deep breath, but she isn't keen on being out in the open when night descends fully. So she turns to head into the forest, where the trees will block wind and cold better than open grassland.
She doesn't make it very far before stopping. 'Faline?' It's not her name, but Harrow turns anyway, ears pricking. It's the tone that catches her interest: worried and uncertain, like the mare has lost someone important.
Harrow's not usually the altruistic type. Tonight is no exception; she turns and walks toward the voice more out of curiosity than any desire to help. But someone has gotten there before her: a stallion, and by the sound of it certainly not this mare's Faline. A smile twitches at the Knabstrupper's lips as she rounds a trio of redwoods to see their little standoff. The first such conflict she's seen this close up—it'd better be good, then.
She doesn't insert herself into the conflict yet—at least, not physically. Instead she stands, her black-spotted form taller than either of the two, hanging back casually by the cluster of redwoods. "Those are fighting words, boy!" Harrow laughs. And yes, she absolutely wants to encourage that. "I hope you're planning on taking him down a notch," she tells the black and white mare. "His arrogance is unbelievable!" Then again, maybe the confidence is well-deserved. So many simply submit to their captors. Harrow has high hopes for the fierce-looking mare—don't disappoint, she wills silently, brown eyes fixing intently on the two. Replies: