Youthful and eager, the champagne colt trotted closer once he had voiced his initial greeting. He was, after all, now Lord of Paradise. Whether he knew what that meant or not, it was a title he was going to have to be quick to adopt. Raised in the Peaks of the Vulcans, he knew how to be polite, just as the instincts of a stallion ran deep in his blood. He moves around her, a spring in his step. Not boastful, but clearly happy that there was someone else there, someone he could talk to and be around. In his growing hearts of heart he was thrilled that he had something to fight for, someone in his home to live for.
“A pleasure to meet you, Macabre.” Years of manners dictated his greeting. “My name is Ailill.” The maturity from his tones vanished after the formal greetings were complete. He knew that from here on out the conversations could go anywhere, and he could be himself. Golden ears perked towards her and his blue eyes shined. He listened to what she said attentively, determined to never be one to be accused of not hearing out his herd. His face fell at her words though. She was the second grown mare who seemed to have come across stallions who had abandoned or forgotten them. From where he stood there was no reason to have left Macabre. She was whole, she was healthy, and she was beautiful. Surely a treasure to be cherished, not to be left behind and forgotten in this tropical forest.
The expression continued to fall, but he reached out his soft nose to her. “I am here now.” He assured, though his voice was sad, as if he knew what the answer to his next question would be. “They brought you here, but you are free to leave if you want.” He knew he was young, he knew he missed his mother and sister. He knew a mare would likely not want to stay under the protection of a yearling. “Or you can stay and dance with me in the trees and the rain. I will not leave you like they did.”
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