Posted on August 16, 2012 at 09:06:53 AM by BADR
 It seemed as though the brief tale of the mark on his face was barely enough for the woman, as she looks him over with her green eyes, moving from his face and then to the ground, as if eye contact were difficult. For a majority of his young manhood he had done as had been expected of him, not once asking questions until someone had looked him in the eye and asked him if he knew why he was to do these things. Lacking the answer to such a frivolous question, he had opted for a simple shift in his ways, but that did not necessarily last long.
Hes not too surprised when she asks for the tale of his life, and he knows that the unabridged version of the story would keep them there for many nights, while Rhaella struggled to uncover everything there was to know about the flaxen haired stallion, and while Badr tried to remember everything there was for her to know. For now, he will offer her the shortened version. I grew up in the desert, not like this- the ground was dead, water and food was few and far apart. My childhood was made up of my mother educating me and my father doing as most stallions do. It was a small herd, he managed. He remembers the gruelling heat and the long walks under the sun, his family learning that movement was the best way to survive, even as children dropped dead from the heat and horses found themselves quickly scrambling all their strength to make it to the next watering hole. Badr does not assume that he needs to explain this morbid fact, for the girl is intelligent and he is certain she can understand the trials of a wasteland. When I was about half-way through my second year, I left my birth herd and joined a group of bachelors. That existance, though regretful now, was perhaps one of the more exciting parts of my life. Shortly after that I met Namar- you know of my fight for her- and broke off from the herd to stay with her. The woman had been tall and lean, hardly delicate and she had dark skin. The sort ofskin that made it seem as though the desert life were not possible for her, but it was she that taught Badr the way of the sands, and showed him how to find water even on the hottest of days. Skipping several details of his relationship with Namar, the stallion continued in his speech, his voice dropping softly as he affectionately recalls his first child. Namar and I have a son, his skin was dark like hers and, she said, he had my eyes. I dont know what she named him, because I left soon after. Pausing, he reflects on his reasons for leaving. Because being a father had not struck him as the path that he wanted to take, not yet at least; because once he had a taste of being a bachelor, he had never really wanted to leave with the black skinned woman of the desert, but had been forced into doing so because of tradition. It seemed his people were a faithful and bloody sort. His only chance to escape the old ways had been to flee on the evening that Namar had been resting after the birth of their son, and he never looked back. It was not the mare that he regretted abandoning, but instead the boy that had slept at her side. For a time after that, I wandered the wasteland alone until I found the sea,and then I let the currents take me somewhere else. I found these dunes, and I decided to stay. There are many details that he has skimmed over, keeping certain things that needed to be kept quiet, quiet, and then forgetting the indulge in the other details that may or may not have been important to the woman. Casting dark eyes on the mare, he examines her pale face and green eyes for a moment, knowing that she will not see the normal sort of emotional range in a man that she should find, but instead the look of a man that had been told of duties that he loyally followed through in completing, as though he were told that he had to be here to tell her this. The only rule that Badr had faithfully followed had been the one that told him how to survive, and that meant to adapt. It seemed that he was brought to these lands to adapt to the traditions here and to forget those of his mother land. What of you? What is your life story? badr The misguided jailbird. stallion. flaxen liver chestnut. unknown crossbreed. ee aa ff. fifteen & three hands. eight years. russell. |
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Replies:
- family, duty, honor - By rhaella August 19, 2012 at 04:27:18 PM
- Let there be fire. - By BADR August 24, 2012 at 07:04:59 AM
- x. - By badr August 28, 2012 at 08:21:09 PM
- Let there be fire. - By BADR August 24, 2012 at 07:04:59 AM
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