Common

Rafe has been prowling the Commons for a few monotonous hours now - it is much busier than usual, the long-dragging Summer days creeping ever towards Autumn and luring out those hopeless souls looking for somewhere to settle for the colder months. Clusters of horses are scattered about the grassy area, stallions drawn to mares like a moth to the flame. He has his sights set on a pretty white-marked mare, her sable coat reminiscent of Mirage and bold coloring not unlike his own. Her figure is striking enough even from this distance that Rafe expects the cost of her attention to be his blood.

When the little chestnut approaches, he mutters a curse under his breath. In waiting for the pretty mare to settle, he’s lost his chance. But the wind shifts, and with it comes the scent of another mare. Rafe smirks, ears pricking forward before he sets off, no longer delaying. Can he possibly be so lucky, as to get two for the price of one?

He stops a polite distance from the pair, arriving just in time to hear the stocky chestnut ask where they are. “The Commons,” Rafe tells her, fighting to keep his tone polite. He would have much preferred the chance to speak with his target all alone, but things could be worse. And if somehow he manages to have both mares join his herd? Well, stranger things have happened - like washing up on these godforsaken islands in the first place. This mare doesn’t reek of the Peak, at least, and if she’s asking about where they are she must be a newcomer. He turns his gaze to the mare he had initially planned to approach, flicking an appreciative glance over her. She looks comfortable, “Do I need to explain it to you, too? Something tells me you’re perfectly aware of just where you’ve landed.” He watches her closely, icy gaze sharp and glances between the pair. “Would you like to explain to your friend just what she’s managed to get herself in to?”