Falls

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Someone I used to know.

The mare answers, her dark eyes searching Midas’s golden frame. Is that - was that a smile he saw? His father had many foals in these parts - and many a golden horse has called the islands home so it seems very possible the mare before him had met one of them, or been in love with one of them. Whatever the case, Midas was sure he was nothing like the stallion she was hoping for. Before Midas could reply the mare hastily moved forward, losing her footing in the mud and stumbling into Midas’s shoulder.

On impact, Midas’s countenance changed. Years of battling have made the golden man react like a soldier recently home from war. Whenever something startled, surprised or touched him in any way, his automatic reaction was to retaliate - aggressively. His sides stiffen, his head snakes automatically towards the threat and his ears pin back, bronze eyes attempt to lock in on the incoming threat as ivory teeth flash. But almost as quickly as the reaction had taken over, it dissipates and his sensible brain kicks in and remembers that this bump is no threat. He relaxes again, and stops the forward movement of his neck, his lips glide back over his exposed teeth. His features soften.

As she mumbles some sort of apology and stretches her body down to the river, Midas notices the sunlight catch her gaunt figure and cling to the bones peeking out from her patchy coat. "Where in Apollo’s name have you been?" He mutters, surprised by her obvious lack in nourishment. “Tinuvel?” He spits the name out like it has a nasty ring to it. The stallion dislikes that island greatly, with its cold temperatures and tall, bristly trees. He has very little desire to ever go back there - and he was sure that wasteland could cause any creature to starve.

Midas shifts his body around so he was facing the same direction of her, coming up on her right side. He contemplates what he should do. His stony eyes are still locked on her figure. His expression remains stoic but his mind moves at a million miles an hour - torn. It was obvious she was in distress of some kind - either from this encounter or from the winter’s harsh conditions. Should he help? Should he go? Any further interaction could leave to obligations but then again, Midas was a man of honor - he had once been king on these islands, and if he could help perhaps he should. “Hey.” He pauses, stretching his velvet nose towards her body and gently brushing the nape of her neck with his lips. It was meant as a comfort, a sign of solidarity. “It’s going to be alright.” He pauses, his body still close to her stooping one.

“Midas.” He says quietly, making his decision. He’s going to help this mare if he can. Maybe he can reunite her with her family or at least stay with her until she’s gotten some food, some sleep and seems less likely to fall over from exhaustion. Midas moves back a bit and speaks clearly, “That’s what they call me.”

Tarrant x Vintage // Stallion // Palomino [ee aa nCr] // Thoroughbred x Mustang x Mixed // 15.2hh // 12 // No children // a fable character //