he had thought that when he arrived there would be hordes of women fanning themselves at his passing; that they would practically fall over themselves to be at his side, to introduce themselves and declare "oh judas, take me now!" he knew he was handsome (at least, his mother always told him so) and he had never been afraid to use it to his advantage. there had been men and women alike who had fallen prey to the sweet flutter of his lashes, the saccharine tilt of his smile, the softness of his kisses on their skin...
yet here, he was only met with staring; whispering amongst themselves like he carried some type of plague.
but as most had stopped to stare at him (or was it just his imagination running rampant? his egotistical sefl-declared importance fueling his desires?), one mare had not even batted an eyelash. she tore at the grass below with a ferocity, a proud defiance plastered on her pretty lips. he flashes a crooked grin at the others before approaching her, switching from a cocky cheshire smile to a look of real concern.
"excuse me, miss?"
his brow furrows even deeper.
"oh dear, this is so terribly awkward. i'm so sorry to intrude on your breakfast it's just..." deep breath
"that's my grass."
"...speech"
six years. georgian grande mutt. silver grullo pintaloosa. seventeen hands. of nowhere.