Falls

The jibe had the ghost of a smile on the older man’s face coalescing into something tangible in the upward tug of his lips. As if being called a grandfather might be insulting to him, he was well aware of his age and obviously felt no shame in it. There was a momentary pain that lanced through his soul at the idea that he like was, in fact, exactly what that title indicated in the literal sense. He had not been shy during his time on the Islands before, he had many children of which he knew and more even of which he did not there was no doubt. How many of those would have had children on their own by now, ones he would never know. He cannot dwell on this however, not now and he shoved the pain down; instead using it to fan the flames of his motivation. His emerald eyes narrow slightly at the taunt the younger man throws towards him, his blocky head tossing slightly. “I reckon there’s only one way to find out.” He thick voice rolled like molasses mimicking the roll of his shoulders as he steps forward slightly.

His gait is hitched slightly as he moved forward, the fact that his body was not what it once was is undeniable, but it does not mean his mind is any duller. The other stallion is eager he can tell, from the heavy hoof that clearly marks his intentions to the posture of his body everything about him radiated the desire he felt for the scrimmage. He wondered what had left him so pent up, so hungry for this release. Were the seasons different he might have used it as a good enough explanation, but his questions would have to wait. It seemed he had better let the younger version of himself get off a little steam first. The perlino’s words only emphasize that enthusiasm, as if the spotted stallion could not veritably scent his anticipation and he merely snorts a response. “Very well then.”

The lighter mans stance indicates his openness for the older man to initiate the first move and a calm falls over the spotted mans physique, his breathing a constant rhythm in tandem with his heart but there is a spark in his verdant eyes as the rise quickly. His thick body moves towards his sparring partner at a mild pace, though there is not much distance between them it will still take him more than a moment to cross it at this speed. At the last moment however he pushes forward, mottled ears sinking into the dark tresses of his mane as he eats up that remaining space with speed not indicated by his prior movements. He does not aim to rise, his dense body and aged joints not eager for the momentum that would require. Instead he uses the force of his sizeable weight and lowers his head, turning his neck slightly so as to use his shoulder as a battering ram into the others chest. The ground is soft and his wide hooves sink into it slightly with the heft of his movements, his blunt teeth uncovered as he moves with calculated strength to try and pinch the flesh available to him in such a position.

The mild-mannered man was a gentleman of sorts, but only time had worn the harder edges of him away. Each move of his bulk was made with only the effort necessary for it, there was no flash and a decided lack of creativity on his part. He had learned long ago that he was not graceful nor light on his feet, speed was not his ally and whatever he did was effective enough with the brute strength he had at hand and whatever his mind could come up with.