Though he was painted with a similar palette of rich golden hues, Rade has long accepted that he is not the same man as his father. In his younger days, he had welcomed this fact - relished it, even - but now the palomino stallion is older and has tasted the bitter nettle of life, growing in wisdom with each error that he makes. Debonaire is a charming, charismatic man; he has a manner of speaking that can ease tension before it becomes trouble. While he had been on the islands, the buckskin had gotten into his share of mischief, but he'd had allies, always, to stand at his side. Rade is a solitary and cynical creature, with an abrasive personality that has earned him many enemies and no friends. Even his brother has turned from him now, leaving him to shoulder the impossible burden of his actions' consequences.

So much has occured in the single season since their meeting that Rade has had little time to spare worrying about a woman who had proven more than capable of holding her own. Still, his thoughts turn wistfully to the haughty mare every now and again; the palomino stallion would welcome another verbal spar with her as an escape from the political tension that stifles him here. Musing as he heads for his favorite haunt at the beach's edge, Rade's amber eyes look beyond the verdancy of the jungle, gazing into the reflective pool of his memory. He might not be as suave and likeable as Debonaire, but he has proven himself to be good with words in his own way. Cleverness has not helped to win him friends, but perhaps cunning can aid him in outsmarting his enemies. The ghost of a smile curves the palomino's lips as he steps into the sun, heedless of the fire that consumes his honey pelt.

And then he sees her.

Maraigh is not as radiant as the sun overhead, but she glows in a more subtle way. Her coat is of a softer gold than Rade's own burnished hue, with occasional blotches of ivory flowing smoothly throughout. But more familiar than her appearance is the superior, self-confident air that enfolds her. The unspoken language of her body expresses her irritation and abhorrence of company, yet she has come to his beach. Why? Rade has long presumed that she had chosen to disdain his claim on her, and he'd been to concerned with more pressing matters than to drive the champagne mare here by force. Perhaps it was better this way; even if she has come haltingly, unwillingly, she has still chosen to come to him, and that grants him a subtle power over her. And let's be honest here - as far as this woman goes, Rade can use all the help he can get.

Confidence grants fluidity to Rade's sultry strides as he approaches the woman unhurriedly; it would be unseemly to rush to her side. He halts a body's breadth from her, allowing the space between them to roil with the tension of silence for a moment before he speaks.

“You're late.” He states with a half-smile designed to ruffle her feathers, his eyes raking hers for that spark of defiance. “Well, no matter I suppose. I don't recall that we ever exchanged formalities. I'm Rade.”

His silence is an invitation, but the tension in his expression is a command.
stallion // mongrel // 15.1hh // 4 // palomino roan // rebadebonaire x neassa