Meadow

Solomon

Heat blossomed across his back as he paced from the relative comfort of the shade of a strand of trees into the unprotected meadow. Sun glimmered off the coats of the various equines dotted around the crossing grounds, but it was not upon them that his vision lingered. No, he could've sworn he'd seen a sliver of a golden coat across the meadow and while he knew in his heart that it would not be Harley Quinn, he could also not ignore it. If there was even the slightest possibility that his girl would return to him, he had to pursue it.

Long strides carried him at a relatively fast pace as he threaded his way through the various visitors to this land. Few of them interested him at the moment. Solomon had come here out of a generic restlessness, not out of a burning desire to add to his collection. He was certain things would change when Fall came around and the possibility of foals was once more on the table, but for now, he was largely happy with the herd he had built. The Isles had been mostly good to him so far and fortune smiled on the legacy he was working to build.

Eventually, his quarry comes into view, and the sudden onset of disappointment takes him so by surprise that his steps falter and pause. Like a silent voyeur, the tobiano stallion watches with an inscrutable expression as the spotted golden mare is approached by a black figure, also female. It is not that he finds her undesirable. In fact, the half of him that has already accepted Quinn's abandonment is more than gleeful to find such a pretty set of mares. This feeling, however, wars with the hope he had unconsciously harbored for a different outcome.

Shaking his head to clear it, Solomon shoves those thoughts down as far as he can and walks toward the pair. Might as well engage himself in something interesting to take his mind off of things, and maybe, just maybe if he was lucky, he could invite them back to the Cove.

"Nice to see others taking advantage of such a clear day." He offers with a grin, tipping his aristocratic head in greeting. Casually he lets his gaze slide from the gorgeous golden mare to the black one who held herself with some mixture of reserve and regality. She piqued his interest, if only because she smelled vaguely of the jungle, as had Bjorn and Rougaru. Did she belong to one of them? Or to the woman queen Xiomara?

"Hope I'm not interrupting anything?" He offers as a rare courtesy, fairly certain that this was not the case. Their body language had not indicated a gathering of old friends, but these Isles were home to the lost after all. There was no guarantee that he was correct. A grin spreads across his lips as he continues. v"I saw the two of you and couldn't resist coming to say hello."

He settles fully, tilting a hip to make himself both seem less threatening and more comfortable. "I'm Solomon, of the Cove."

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