Taking a swim halfway through the winter was probably not the best idea Ailill ever had. The warm suns of the tropics had done nothing to encourage his pale gold coat to thicken and fluff. Consistent rain had started to wear on his though. Loud storms rocked the Ridge with clashes of lights. He watched from the shores, careful to take cover when the storms grew too fierce. Usually wiser, and also usually just as foolish, the pale stallion decided to try his luck and swim over to Crossing. It was a nice day, perhaps he would come across a poor soul who had just arrived and was in need of winter company.
The moment his hooves touched the sands of Crossing, he regretted his decision. Though he had grown up on the Peak it did not mean he liked the cold. His home had always been Atlantis whenever his hooves had allowed him to stop his restless roaming. Sighing at his own foolishness, he shook off as much of the ocean water as he could before trotting off into the trails of Crossing. Luckily, it was a warm cold day as opposed to a frigid day. As he moved and the water froze and eventually fell away from him in his movements he started not to mind the cold, growing more interested in the sights, sounds, and smells of Crossing.
There was always something new and familiar about the common lands. The landscape never changed, but the coming and goings of horses old and new always changed the atmosphere. There had been times the stallion had been tempted to go into the Commons, knowing that was where one could easily grow their herd through force or otherwise. He frowned in that direction. It was a practice he did not completely approve of, but knew some were kinder about the process than others. An ear flicked. Once upon a time he would steal mares out from the watchful eyes of their stallions, but he would never dare force anyone to go anywhere with him, and they were always free to go. The day an angry stallion taught him a lesson was the last day he had pulled such a prank. He did smirk to himself though. There were other ways to play games, so long as every player knew it was a game.
Ailill had grown lost in his thoughts, slowing his pace as he watched the sun play against the snow. Coming back to himself, he shook out his body and picked up the pace again. He came to the Meadow and kicked up his heels in delight. The open now cloaked expanse was a refreshing change of scenery from the dense rocky forest he had come to call him. Feeling suddenly energized he took it upon himself to break out into a full gallup and stretch himself for a few laps around the fields. A little out of breath he slowed to a trot and meandered into the heart of the Meadow. His attention was caught by snow being thrown and tossed into the air not too far off. Another wreckless grin plastered onto his face and he cantered over to the playing mare. He let out a bray of friendly greeting before also tossing balls of snow into the air with his front hooves, hoping to continue her play. But she seemed to hesitate, looking at the world around her and he stopped, too. He followed her gaze to the sky with his own pale blue gaze and looked back at her. Forgive me, I hope I did not interrupt your game… He glanced back up at the darkening clouds, suddenly feeling a little foolish for making a childish fool of himself. It looks like the weather here is about to take a turn pretty quick. Do you have shelter you can go to? He had not seen her before, though that would not have been surprising. He could not assume, but many horses on Crossing often did not have places to go when storms hit, and were sometimes unaware of the places of shelter available to them.