Meadow

Solomon

There was no give to the golden girl, no softening to his presence. Each question he asked, each move that he made was met with a flatness he had not seen in a long time. It would be irritating, if he were not intrigued by her.

At her admission of not knowing the answer to his question, a frown slips onto his lips. How did one seek nothing? Even a desire as simple as locating sustenance was still something, even if it was not as large of a concept as finding a home or company. At the following implication that she does not know who or what she is, he begins to wonder what hell had stripped the mare of her basic identity.

"All the more reason to seek something, in the hopes that it will tell you more about who you are, or who you want to be." He offers calmly, still a little off kilter at the direction of their conversation. Philosophical discussions were a rare find among the isles, even moreso among stallions courting (however ineffectually) homeless mares. Undeterred, he matches the mare's halt, letting his gaze rest on her as she issues her question.

He could answer her flippantly, and there is a knee jerk reaction in him that wants to do so, if only to goad a more predictable emotion from her. He knows irritation, annoyance, frustration. Those were all things he was familiar with seeing. Her introspection, however, was new.

"Mostly, yes." He says after a pause, his gaze on her. "Although from what I've seen everyone is in a constant state of change. Who I am now might not be the same by the end of the day, the week, the year."

This was certainly true enough for him. Each development with his herd, his family, his future caused him to react to each new scenario differently. Knowing what he knew now, would he have claimed Coda? No, of course not. This, however, did not fundamentally change his views on force claiming a mare. But the hindsight of what he had learned would make him more cautious of who he laid his teeth into next time.

He flicks the long strands of his tail across his haunches lazily, considering the pretty mare before him. If this had been the commons, he would have already laid claim to her, and therefore missed out on this discussion. With a touch of formality, the lead of the Cove bows his head slightly. "But in the simplest sense, I am Solomon, of the Cove."

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