Posted on August 24, 2012 at 07:04:59 AM by BADR
 Perhaps the conditions and the rituals of his home had been harsh, perhaps too harsh, for the dark skinned, flaxen maned stallion. The notion of survival had been stamped into his mind as more important than anything, as it should happen, the need to procreate was a different method of survival that had been entirely ignored all together. Tradition had come at the age of a year, barely a man and still just a child, Badr had been cast out into the harsh wasteland and told to, “Survive or don’t come back at all.” His mother had had harsh words, and his father, though mostly absent, had said nothing at all.
For a while, his abandonment of Namar had been one of the few things that were constantly rolling in the depths of his mind, but he had come to the realization that she must have been better off without him. The one thing that had weighed down on his conscience had been that the boy, without a father to protect him from wayward travelers that were interested in his mother, must have died or been killed. A thought that he never brought to light again. He knows that the woman must be judging him, as her eyes were cast to the ground, but he does not say anything or beg for her forgiveness, certainly what he had done had been unforgivable, so instead he listens quietly to what she says. Unlike Rhaella, he has a hard time imagining what her land must look like, but he can only picture that it must have been similar to the dunes, except the sand had been happily replaced with grasses and rolling hills that you could run on forever. What Badr does know, is the feeling of washing up on a shore of a foreign land and needing to survive. Where the painted mare had been able to find solace on a friendly man in order to carry on, the stallion had nursed himself back to strength and had done the only thing that made sense to him- despite it going against all his previous opinions of family life. Listening in silence as the girl speaks of Aleksei, her voice softening when she directs the words towards her daughter, he casts his dark eyes in the direction of the filly, looking her over for a few moments before speaking. “I’m sorry he has been lost to you.” A short apology that he means, knowing that it must have been difficult for Rhaella to come here and to trust a stranger after the last stranger she had met (and perhaps come to love, this he doesn’t know) had disappeared. badr The unmoral vigilante. stallion. flaxen liver chestnut. unknown crossbreed. ee aa ff. fifteen & three hands. eight years. russell. |
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- x. - By badr August 28, 2012 at 08:21:09 PM
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