Posted on September 16, 2015 at 07:23:23 PM by STRACK
STRACKThe mare's inquiry confuses Strack, who had grown up in a society that was led, mainly, by the males. He's unsure whether or not she is asking because she is surprised that he, in particular, could rule over a territory or because of his gender. There is much he does not know about the world, he decides, with a small bout of quiet laughter. "Yes. Is that so odd?" The wind greets them again with unpleasantly cold fingers and it seems to eradicate whatever patience the grey mare had left, but her statement still surprises the mottled stallion.
And yet, while his muscles continue to yell in fatigued protest, the Nez Perce nods cordially to his newest acquaintance while turning back towards the cold, tumultuous channel that separates the Commons from Salem. "The heat of the Dune will make up for the cold water," his voice is light and cheerful despite the mare's standoffish attitude before he moves off towards the water. He submerges himself chest-deep into the roiling water, giving his body has a chance to protest its iciness, but he ignores it and moves in further to begin the journey to Salem.
He swims at a comfortable speed, making sure to keep his neck extended and his head above the surface of the wavy channel. His body grows numb in the journey, both from the cold and his weariness. Strack had never taken this journey with a companion before but he does not attempt conversation — such an activity while exerting themselves in a life-threatening way seemed petty and childish.
When they finally arrive on salem and in the Dunes, the blanketed stallion shakes himself of the salt water and revels in the heat of his home. His black mane and tail cling to his muscled frame nevertheless, but he pays no mind as he turns his dark chocolate eyes to the Arabian mare. "Welcome to the Dunes," he falls silent for a moment and gives the mare a moment to look over his humble abode, should she so choose, "You never told me your name."
THE SUN SAID, "IT HURTS TO BECOME,"
And yet, while his muscles continue to yell in fatigued protest, the Nez Perce nods cordially to his newest acquaintance while turning back towards the cold, tumultuous channel that separates the Commons from Salem. "The heat of the Dune will make up for the cold water," his voice is light and cheerful despite the mare's standoffish attitude before he moves off towards the water. He submerges himself chest-deep into the roiling water, giving his body has a chance to protest its iciness, but he ignores it and moves in further to begin the journey to Salem.
He swims at a comfortable speed, making sure to keep his neck extended and his head above the surface of the wavy channel. His body grows numb in the journey, both from the cold and his weariness. Strack had never taken this journey with a companion before but he does not attempt conversation — such an activity while exerting themselves in a life-threatening way seemed petty and childish.
When they finally arrive on salem and in the Dunes, the blanketed stallion shakes himself of the salt water and revels in the heat of his home. His black mane and tail cling to his muscled frame nevertheless, but he pays no mind as he turns his dark chocolate eyes to the Arabian mare. "Welcome to the Dunes," he falls silent for a moment and gives the mare a moment to look over his humble abode, should she so choose, "You never told me your name."
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