Falls

Iscariot watched the dark female with solemn eyes as she gave lesson, listened so raptly that his ears quivered amongst the tangled skeins of his mane. The mare - Rhadra - had made the action look so simple the first time, and both her pantomime and explanation were straightforward and easy to follow. It reminded the creamy-white stallion of Rivaini, though her patience had often struggled to conceal a note of exasperation beneath its surface - perhaps because the perlino had not always been so apt a pupil as he was in this moment. A pang of guilt sliced through Iscariot's thoughts at this realization of how much he had taken his sibling for granted; she had tried to teach him the skills necessary for his survival. He'd just never tried to learn, had hidden behind his infirmity as an excuse that forced others to care for him.

His companion had had stepped aside, the action seeming to encourage Iscariot to make an attempt of his own. Probing the ice with a pair of pale blue eyes, the perlino settled on a spot that seemed to fit what Rhadrea had described - beneath the deceptively smooth surface of the ice, a previously-formed fissure was visible. Lifting one beige leg, he brought it down on the spot with as much force as he could muster and... nothing. Blowing harshly through his nostrils in frustration, Iscariot glanced at his black-coated companion. It was difficult to tell through the curtain of hair that covered them, but Rhadra's hooves appeared to be wider than his, and her legs were certainly more muscular. The combination enabled the mare to strike the ice with more force than the stallion's frailer body was capable of - but also gave the stallion an idea. Lifting himself into a half-rear - and inhaling sharply at the pain that crackled through his hind legs - Iscariot came down on the spot with stiffened forelegs, breaking through the crust of ice.

Pride was evident in his bearing as the stallion threw his head back, limbs dancing excitedly. "I did it!" In his enthusiasm the stallion became younger than his years; little more than a colt excited about mastering a new skill. His demeanor quickly sobered, however, when Rhadra voiced her curiosity. Home. Though its climate had certainly been more agreeable than the chill that prevailed here, Iscariot's heart had never belonged in that place as he felt that it might here. In a lifetime spent on the tropical shore he'd never made a single friend besides his sibling - and in a span of days here, he had already made one, perhaps two.

"The place I came from was called Antilla," he said, pink lips twisting into an unconscious frown as he spoke. "The trees were different there - their leaves were larger but fewer, and only grew out of the very top. All the colors felt brighter there - the birds and flowers and even the sea. And it could rain for days without stopping." The picture his words painted was beautiful enough, even to Iscariot's mind. But though his voice might have sounded a little wistful, there was nothing that would have convinced him to return. "I hated it there." Iscariot admitted, his gaze drifting out to the frozen sculpture of the lesser falls. He didn't expect his companion to understand - he didn't entirely understand himself - but it felt good to speak the truth he'd long held within himself.