Falls

Hawke

x^aisy/ six / grullo tobiano / mixed breed / 15.3hh

Would you rather they didn’t leave you alone?

The thick, muscular curve of Hawke’s neck jerked abruptly upward. As the last remnants of water that clung to hir whiskered muzzle returned to the pool a single drop at a time, shi contemplated the stranger with a guarded expression. In such a short time and brief exchange of words, it seemed as if the sooty bay had peeled back the protective layers of Hawke’s exterior and glimpsed the vulnerable creature who dwelt within. It was frightening, this feeling of having hir emotions and doubts laid out for the world to see. But it was also freeing. Not having to hide anymore. Sharing those pieces of hirself that none had seen since...since…

“I may not be like everyone else, but I still have the same needs - and the same desires.” The grullo offered, surprising hirself in how honestly shi had responded to the stranger. Even with Cain, shi had been more guarded; Hawke’s concern had been more for the stallion’s grief than hir own. And where the black-and-white stallion had unearthed hir empathy, this...Cinnamon... called to another side of the androgynous equine. A part of hir that remained young and carefree. A part that had once laughed beside Kasabian, and even ventured a joke of hir own. Hawke clung to the joy of that memory, and knew that shi would give anything to feel that way again.

“No, forgive me. It’s been so long since I had a friend that I’d forgotten what a joke is.” Hawke hastened to reassure the sooty stallion. Shi didn’t want him to change - or worse, leave. Shi didn’t want to be sad and alone. “The Falls are my home,” The grullo then confessed in response to Cinnamon’s inquiry about hir purpose here. There wasn’t shame in hir contralto voice, exactly, but a sort of wry humor - as if Hawke acknowledged that hir circumstances weren’t exactly a cause for envy. Many looked on the transients who called the Crossing home with pity, but it wasn’t all so bad - and certainly preferable to an existence of being barely-tolerated on the outskirts of a herd.

“I’m Hawke,” shi offered after a pause, hir single golden eye gazing momentarily south as the inevitable memories arrived on hir name’s heels. Shi had never known whether it was Aveline or Hollowpoint who had chosen it, but preferred to believe that it was hir sire. That shi would always carry that small piece of him with hirself.

Hir gaze returned to Cinnamon after the span of a couple heartbeats. Curious now, probing. The tension had drained from hir mouse-brown body in small degrees with each moment that passed in the stallion’s company, so that the grullo now stood with one hind leg cocked, the rim of its hoof resting on the earth. “I hope you don’t take offense when I say that it’s a relief to meet another whose parents should be called into question for their name,” the grullo said with a hint of wry humor. “After all, you are no more a plant than I am a bird - though I have wings of a sort -” a shift of hir body drew attention to the white map that unfurled across hir withers, curving like feathers over hir shoulder and ending just above hir front leg. “- and I suppose you may taste just as good. Should I call the wolves so we might consult their opinion?”

It felt good to talk to the bay stallion, to tease him. Hawke wasn’t certain why, except that perhaps he did not seem to treat hir any differently, despite the differences that set hir apart. Either way, for now - in his company - Hawke felt almost normal.

*hir and shi are gender-neutral pronouns