Posted on May 20, 2014 at 02:11:15 PM by KASABiAN
 And it's consequences keep you up at night. The thick strands of his mane melted into the rivets of his form, the heavy strands of hair flattened by the weight of the rain water it held, lifeless and damp. His forelock, which seemed frozen, stuck to the thin fur that lined the flat sparce of his face, was soaked and irksome. He became overly aware of the thin whiskers that dotted his muzzle too, the wispy strands seemingly doubled in weight as they bent and bobbed with the extra care of sticky, clear rain droplets. The stallion was soaked to the bone and in a rather foul mood because of it. Occasionally the sensation of an oncoming chill would arise within him, tickling him along his spine and in his haunches, but he ignored it. This wasn't the first time he'd been caught in storm, and it was hardly the worst conditions he'd experienced. Luckily for him, Kasabian had taken up ownership on a warmer island. Even in the winter, as the cold, visible plumes of his exhales left his nostrils, the conditions weren't all that frigid. But the rain, on the other hand, it was relentless. The chill and the onslaught of the downpour had distracted him from his ailments. The pang from his hip and pulsing swell from his bowed leg were all but quiet. For that, Kasabian was thankful. It was hard to decipher the onlookers' scents in the humid and dank conditions, but both seemed familiar. The petite, younger mare's frame loomed in the distance and Kasabian did his best to strain to see her, her silhouette well hidden in the dead of night. Not even the stars were visible from under the storm's thick cloud cover. "Pilar, I take it?" He grumbled, golden tipped lobes flicking forward and back upon making the educated guess. He had been waiting for her for some time. And for the first time in his life, he had felt a pang of worry for another being -- a stranger, no less -- as the sun would rise and set day after day and she never came. At first he blamed himself. Perhaps he had done something wrong when he had "claimed" her. Maybe it was his fault. She was, after all, the first he had ever staken claim as his own. He felt conflicted about the whole transaction. The tradition of gender norms that played into how they met made him feel queasy. In his gut he knew it wasn't right. Genitals shouldn't decide the power one has over others. He wanted to tell her this, that her life could be different here than under the rule of other stallions, but now he was tired and it didn't seem to matter all that much anymore. But still, he thought of her often. When they had met in the commons she seemed disinterested, her attention and young, bright eyes turned upon a man from the Lagoon, a swamp that he once called home. Kasabian understood the allure of such a place, but he seemed pale in comparison to the adventures and mischief a rouge stallion could have offered her. However, Pilar was bright. He remembered their conversation, his question "But thought is what separates us for lesser forms. To not think is to not feel or not learn. Thoughtlessness is merely existing, and what kind of life is that?" had gone unanswered. "It seems you found the place alright." He spoke, his usual smirk vacant from his lips. "I apologize for the rain." When the other arrived, Kasabian was generally surprised. For a moment, he contemplated the idea that he was dreaming. That he was drifting in and out of consciousness, a state which worried him, after having greeted an old friend from The Shore days prior, and watching him fall in and out of a lucid state. Perhaps he too, was losing his grip on reality. But the light-hued mare smelled familiar. He had followed her scent all over this terrain, but never found her. She seemingly glowed in the evening, even when there was no moonlight to soak in. He was too naive in the way of women to realize she was with child. Sylvia was kind, motherly. Appearing at a moment when Kasabian could use her most and offering to help. "I'm sorry dear, but who are you?" He asked, feeling foolish for still lying on the ground, but didn't dare to move. He wasn't normally this dreary. KASABiAN 8 | Buckskin | Stallion | Arabian X Thoroughbred X Mustang X Halflinger | 16. 1 | © Vinyl |