Common

She blames it on the island.

Were it not for the steady beat of the ocean waves and the squawking cries of the seabirds coupled with the rattling of lifeless leaves still clinging desperately to the trees above she might have noticed him approaching in her peripheral vision. She blames the island for its salty air that seems to hang the heavy scents of pine, oak and cedar, clogging her salt crusted nostrils with their perfume. She blames the hoof worn path beneath her, heavy with upturned earth and decaying grass. Were it not for the clearly marked trail ahead, she might have heard him approaching from behind. Hell, he might not have even crossed the same path she herself was on were it not for the damned island.

Lean muscles coil beneath her ombre skin as the stallion brushes near. Long neck arches upwards, pressing her small muzzle into the concave of her breast as she angles her head towards him just enough to fix him with a single auburn eye. Long obsidian tail raises on instinct, draping proudly across her hips like a great cloak. Whether he was old or young, the flirtatious mannerism that accompanied autumn had full intentions of dousing him in her own spell of cloying seductress. That is, until his teeth land their mark on her shoulder. How dare he.

Immediately a squeal of outrage parts her jaws and the darkling woman shifts the weight of her body to pivot away from him. Ears snap backwards, disappearing beneath the curtain of obsidian adorning her crest as the woman voices dramatically her displeasure. ’Who the HELL do you think you ARE!’ she wants to shout and shriek in his ears whatever curses come to mind. Yet before she can even lift a hoof in retaliation or even fully grasp the scene as it unfolds before her, another participant joins their little soiree.

’No!’ the shout draws her gaze towards the mare thundering towards them. Were it not for the clarity of her blue eyes and the focus of her attention directed towards the stallion at her side, Abstract might have thought it was some long forgotten lover here to beat out the competition. She turns towards the mare, preparing herself mentally and physically to enjoy what she is sure to be an interesting ass whooping. ”What?” she barks, stomping her hoof in agitation as she peers beyond the bulk of the painted woman. A bite. A single scraping of teeth. Was that all she was worth? No bloodletting? No noble cries of war? What.in.the.HELL!

The words hang in her throat as with equal measures irritation and disgust she listens to the mare berate the stallion. A smug grin slides across her ashen lips as she huffs her amusement and lets her gloating gaze fix for the first time on the stallion that had drummed up such disappointing excitement.

Handsome.

The first word that came to mind followed closely by rugged and maybe even strange. Never before had she seen such strange markings on another horse before. He is taller than she is but not by much. His icy blue eyes remind her of the clearest of summer days with a hardness to them that threatens to shroud her in the cold bite of winter. The expression on his face is soured and gruff but somehow it seems to fit him all the more. While his attention is focused on the heroine, Abstract savors the battle scarred stallion and drinks in the sight of him with equal parts admiration and renewed displeasure. Just who did he think he was?

Whoever he was, it was clear that the equally broad-built mare knew him and apparently knew him well enough to scold him so viciously in front of a complete stranger. An amused chuckle manages to strangle itself high in the throat but not before a quick laugh spills forth. A stallion… silenced by a mare…. Made to look like no more than a foolish colt. Was this what the stallions of their world were reduced to? Now she had no need for a prince in shining armor but at least one with some balls might be fun to play with.

The white splashed mare turns towards her now and Abstract almost reluctantly draws her amused gaze away from the stallion. A mask of indifference falls into place as her long lashes blink with thoughtful slowness. ’You are free to make your own choice, miss.’ the words seem foreign and not altogether unpleasant. Drawing out the attention she glances first to the left of duo before her, and then to the right. A single dial rises as she smirks. ”What choice exactly? Not like there is much of one to be had.” she huffs, switching her long black tail against her hip with an audible snap.