Common

Quiet as the day goes by, Bacardi stands near the Commons. It is not often that he comes here, though recently it had seemed regularly. His mind was still abuzz with the last time, speaking to the lagoon stallion that had mistaken him for someone else. Someone by the name of Felony. The stallion knew he should have stayed in the Bay. Stayed with his newest family member and mourned the loss of another, but in some ways, he wanted to take his troubles elsewhere. To keep from burdening them with so many thoughts that looped like carousel music.


It is only the sound of voices, or rather one voice in particular that drag his attention away from the chaos and into the present. Perking his ears, Bacardi moves towards where it had come from. The sound had been weak, enough that he had barely even heard it. But the moment he had, there was no way to ignore it.


Stepping through the trees and brush, the painted stallion paused when his eyes came to rest on two figures. The first one he saw was standing. She sported a pretty coat, and despite the heat of the season nearing them quickly, Bacardi felt no rush to claim her. It wasn’t the reason he had come to the shoreline anyways. Next, his eyes fell to the one laying prone. Their body waterlogged and looking no better than a piece of driftwood that had been weathered and sea soaked for a countless amount of time. But still, even as worn as the creature looked, Bacardi recognized the bay coat of the mare. The one who had drawn him here.


Without thinking, Bacardi quickly rushed forward towards the two mares. Protective instinct crowded any rational thought and his ears buried in his knotted black mane, while his golden lupine eyes narrowed dangerously. Driving himself between the two, he stepped carefully not to crush his sister beneath, and aimed to shoulder away the other mare. “She belongs to me.” Bacardi growled out. Though he had never spoken that way before, and probably should have been thanking the mare for trying to wake Wasp. Bacardi did not see the help the stranger had tried to offer, only Wasp’s reaction and the blood the mare sported on her head.

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

"...speech"