Gabbar
stallion . arabian . bay . 14.3hh . 6
He does not relax (although it should be noted that Gabbar is not tense, either) even when the mare speaks so fairly to him despite his rudeness. Although she has not seen fit to strike him yet, there is always a possibility she is trying to entrap him. Mares in the desert are excellent at making a breeder feel at ease and then punishing the stallion for his arrogance when he adopts a mutually casual attitude. Gabbar is not afraid of this possibility, only wary of it. He does not know this chestnut mare’s temperament or attitude yet, although he is pleased at her positive response to his intrusion. Still, he will tread carefully until he has a better understanding of her behavior.
“Teşekkür ederim,” he says with another dip of his dished head, thanking her for both the permission to speak and her acknowledgement of his victory over obtaining the Dunes. In the back of his mind Gabbar notes that her greeting sounds similar to the word Valve first spoke to him on the Crossing. Though the Arabian has not offered her name in kind, Gabbar is not surprised. He is only a breeder, after all. He glances at her face again and continues in his deep voice, “You are the first Arabian I have had the pleasure to meet on these Isles. I come from a desert far from here, a place rich with Pureblooded horses, and I am looking for a pair of mares I was once fortunate enough to share an oasis with.”
Here Gabbar pauses. There is much he does not know, and he is loathe to make assumptions, but his situation almost demands it. The bay stallion exhales slowly before he proceeds. Gods be with me, he prays to himself as his gaze skates over the mare’s pale chestnut face. “One is a fleabitten gray and carries the holy bloodmark of our Goddess on both her shoulders. The other is a chestnut, vibrantly red with four high white stockings. They are El Halin and Iftikhar, respectively, and if you have heard of or seen either of these mares I would most humbly beg that you indulge my curiosity and inform me as to where they might be.”
The possibility that the pretty mare before him has run across either of the two mares Gabbar has come to find is a small one, but his concern lies on if the pretty mare has seen his mother and the High Seer. Not all Arabians care for one another, and often there is dissent and conflict among what appears to be a tightly-knit herd. Gabbar would not be surprised to learn the rabicano’s opinion of the two mares is not favorable, if indeed she knows of whom he speaks, and that her response might hinder his search rather than help it. These are all the “what-if’s” that crowd his mind as he stares respectfully at the sand beyond her shoulder, and he quiets them with another slow exhale as his delicate ears tip further toward the Arabian mare.
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