Common

Rehoboam had never noticed how much the climate differed from one end of the Crossing to the other. Not that he had ever spent much time in the Peak itself, but he'd skirted it's shores on the way to the Cove and back plenty of times to know it was almost identical to his childhood home. The middle lands - the Meadow and the Falls and the Commons - all remained fairly mild, all things considered, but the Lagoon was hot. Even in winter, he found himself constantly surrounded by the muggy and oppressive heat, which had been bad enough in the warmer months but had grown nearly unbearable as his winter coat came in.

He found himself travelling northward more often than not, which in and of itself was a risky manuver. Not because he had any great fear of the Amazons or the other Tinuvel leaders, but because the odds of him being found out increased dramatically the further north that he went. His family was vast, as was their network of friends. It had been a close enough call with Kolfinna, and he was fairly certain that the brindled mare did not recognize him well enough to be able to tell his father, but it was really only a matter of time until someone did.

And he wasn't ready to explain to his father why he felt pulled toward the humid hellscape of the Lagoon.

The tobiano stallion cut across the southern end of the Commons, aiming to bask in the still-open flow of the Falls to cool himself off when something caught his eye. Against the muted colors of early winter, he wasn't even entirely sure what he was looking at until he drew closer. Permanent snowflakes left gossamer trails up the feminine shape of her hindquarters, quickly fading into a sleek darker color over her shoulders. Dark forelegs drew his gaze, but he couldn't stop staring at the alabaster waterfall of mane that draped curtain-like across her face, obscuring it from his view.

He doesn't hesitate, and he isn't particularly sure why. Even as his pale hooves change course and pick up speed in her direction, he isn't entirely sure what his hurry is. She's alone, so his odds of a conversation were high. It wasn't fall, so the likelihood of interruption was much smaller. And he didn't yet know her well enough to know whether a rushed approach would work or not.

Or even, really, if he wanted it to work.

Rehoboam still maintained that the Lagoon was not meant to be a babysitting service for the likes of high-ranking generals. If they wanted to live like a herd stallion, then they should move out and live like a damned herd stallion. Hoarding an entire herd's worth of mares and foals and then tasking the Lagoon brothers with their protection was irresponsible at best, and cowardly at the root.

And yet his feet didn't stop. He didn't stop.

Rehoboam charged forward until he was sidling along her side, angling himself so that as he stretched forward he could attempt to clamp his jaws around the rise of her withers. The young stallion had no rut to blame the sense of primal satisfaction of conquest on, but he felt it all the same and he chuckled low in satisfaction.

"Come on then, beautiful." Bodily he pushed against her, keeping them as close as possible while a bold smirk curled on his lips. Despite this, his heart hammered rapidly in unease. He couldn't reconcile the part of himself that took pleasure from the possibility of success - even for the sake of her well-being - with the boy who had grown up at Eve's hooves, learning that kindness begat kindness.

There was no room for kindness in the Lagoon. And until he had his answers, he needed to play the part.

"Time to get you somewhere warmer before you get too chilly," he added with a challenge, his dark-rimmed ears ticking back into the mess of his mane. Drawing on the charm he'd seen his father use time and time again, he wields the flirtation clumsily - like a club rather than a rapier. "Unless you'd rather we keep snuggling right here."