Common

Life had a cruel sense of humor most of the time. Bacardi had never thought he would return to Luthien to try and call it home. Tinuvel was meant to be his home for the rest of his days, with a shield maiden to lead them and the few mares to keep him warm at night. The painted stallion couldn’t let it stall him though. Life was moving on, whether he liked it or not, which is what had drove him to try and reclaim a piece of Luthien.


Emptiness is what lured the stallion to the Crossing so soon after. Raised in the Peak, he never thought he would be in the Commons searching for a herd member, yet here he was. Conflicted, but not enough to chase him away. I’m not forcing someone to live with me he told himself, as if that were enough to even out the crimes he could possibly commit. I’m saving them from a choice being taken away by another. Bacardi wondered how true that was though? He had never kept anyone against their will, but he had also never wanted to grow his herd either.


Morals verses instinct was a hard battle to fight.


When the wails of anguish reached his black rimmed ears, Bacardi froze. His heart leapt at the sound. Making it race with a near sense of panic. It was how he had felt since Valka’s disappearance, only he hadn’t been able to release it. Bottled away, never to let anyone else know of it’s existence. So, finding the strength to unroot his hooves, Bacardi followed the sound until he found the heap upon the beach. The smell of Tinuvel mixed with the tinge of sea salt making him curious to what had brought her here so broken hearted? Did he still smell of Tinuvel too? Maybe it would bring her some comfort. Bacardi couldn’t stand for her to continue to hurt in the same way he did. No one deserved that kind of pain.


"Please…” he couldn’t help but croak out, his wolfish eyes glittering a mirror reflection of her cries. "Please….. Let me help you.” Bacardi practically begged, though he had no idea how he could even begin to help her if he couldn’t even help himself.

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

"...speech"