Common

He is not all that young, at least not in relation to her, but he is younger than some of the Heritage starter stallions that ruled around the isles. Her response to his approach is muted, as she kept eating, but he can feel her attention on him nonetheless and so he introduces himself. His thick forelock and mane gets tossed back and away from his eyes as he listens to her initial reaction to his name. How fitting, she said, amused perhaps. It was fair, his mother had been quite on-the-nose about his deep black and fiery embered portions on his face, chest, barrel, and inner flanks.

"The pleasure is mine, Drosera." Easy enough to claim it when it usually was the honor of a stallion to find his greetings not outright spurned or lashed out against. He likes that she sounds like the rich roll of spring thunder, though of a smaller storm than his own voice often suggested. "I suppose you’re right about the sustenance, or relative lack thereof." He chuckles, nodding with a glance that glazed his gaze across the well and truly downtrodden and packed dirt.

"Far be it for me to deny a bit of adventure. Tell me, then, do you have a specific destination in mind?" He chuckles, thinking how self-serving he was about to be and yet surprised by how suddenly his once bashfulness was lost in the wake of his growth into a land-holding stallion. There was a dominance and confidence it instilled, but still he is his mother’s son. He knows he is certainly not the only or most stand-out stallion that she could have the pick of. "There are the Meadow and Falls, though they are not my own that I can back it up. My Harbor is on the island to the Southeast on the far side. It is grasslands and Jungles and littered with water enough to support three herds in one."

A small brag, but who wouldn't brag about such bounty? "And you could be sure that it was a secure place to eat at leisure."