Meadow

Solomon

Solomon paced the borders of the common lands absently, still searching for the golden mare that had thwarted him. Had his teeth not touched her hide, had her body not pressed against his so invitingly, he might have been able to shake off her allure and let her go. He knew, objectively that she was too flighty, too much of a flirt to be a sound investment for his burgeoning herd, and yet here he was.

There was just something about a pretty face.

He lets his thoughts drift back home while he wants, secure in the knowledge that for better or worse, he is in a unique position. With Shaydowfax determined to keep her grip over the Cove, he has little to worry about from other stallions and plenty of time to roam about. Sol is also a newcomer to these lands, and he hasn't been around enough to cause too much of a fuss. Precious few stallions worth mentioning have happened across his path, save Bjorn and Requiem.

Bjorn was still a loose cannon, one that Solomon could not fully unpack. His first experience with the grullo had been when they had split the two lone mares in the commons, Sol with Coda and Bjorn with the pretty buckskin. He had assumed from that interaction that the pony stallion was no angel, and while he was not particularly pleased with Bjorn's instigation of a fight in the Commons, he couldn't really blame him. Raider was annoying.

And Requiem was hardly more than an outlier in the grand scheme of things. He seemed loyal to his father, as a son should be, and had not caused any waves since Solomon had taken up residence in the Cove.

Solomon had yet to meet any of the other stallions on the shores of Tinuvel, although he had plans to head toward the Inlet later in the winter. If the rumors about Warsaw were true, there was a fairly decent chance the two of them could find some sort of common ground. If an alliance could be forged, then he would be on much firmer ground when Shaydowfax inevitably left the Cove.

A flash of gold in his periphery causes him to jerk to attention, dark rimmed nostrils flaring as he sought out the source of the movement. It was not the one he sought, but he was not sorry for laying eyes on her. She was a pretty thing, pale gold in color with a light mane and tail. There seemed to be almost an expression of relief on her face as she walked forward, and he found himself intrigued.

His curiosity only deepened as he stepped forward to join her and the familiar scents of Tinuvel wafted from her coat. From which territory had the pretty bird flown? Was she, like Coda, attempting to escape the nest, and if so, was it worth his while to escort her back? Caution was the key here.

Solomon approaches with a soft whicker of greeting, his green gaze flicking over the girl's body and finding no wounds to speak of. She didn't appear to have taken part in the war he'd heard so much about. Either that or she was an exquisite fighter. As he stills his pale hooves, the dark plush of his muzzle is extended in greeting toward the golden mare before he withdraws to speak.

"I don't blame you for wanting to escape the chill of Tinuvel." He offers a grin, no harm meant and inclines his head. "My name is Solomon, from the Cove."

Dutch Harness Horse Mutt | Champagne Grullo Tobiano Stallion | 17 Hands | The Cove