cinnamon

Cinnamon had never been terribly interested in politics, and had particularly wanted to avoid the troubles of territory ownership. The longer he lived in the Bay, the more resolved he was to keep his nose in his own business. Once again, the chilly slice of Tinuvel had traded hands, and Cinnamon would have to be friendly with a new leader, again.

Not that he had any problem being friendly. He enjoyed the new faces that came to the Bay, however short-lived their stays. He felt he had been lucky so far in that both Liland and Goose had been very generous with him, allowing the sooty stallion to reside within their borders and even letting him bring home a family if he wished (he hadn’t, yet). He hoped the new leader would be as forgiving, but he had doubts.

He knew the story of what happened, though he had not been there. While Cinnamon was on the Crossing getting cozy with Luthien, the first mare he had really developed an interest in, a scuffle had occurred between an escaping Yakut mare and her captor from Atlantis. Goose had apparently stood by and watched. Cinnamon did not exactly condone his inaction, but he did not know what he would have done in Goose’s situation, no matter how much he wanted to believe he would intervene; and the fact was that he had simply not been present. He had not been fulfilling his promise to protect the horses of the Bay, and even though Valka had not truly belonged to the Bay at the time, he still felt guilty for not being present at the very least.

Because of this, Cinnamon had procrastinated formally meeting with Valka. He did not know if she would let him stay, and in the end he had to accept that she had every right to drive him out. He would be alright if that were the case; he and Luthien could find somewhere else to stay, or reside on the Crossing until spring if they could not find anywhere by winter. He could avoid it no longer, come what may.

Nervously, but not terribly so, Cinnamon set out to find the little mare who had fought for the Bay and won it. Beneath his fear of her rejection, Cinnamon harbored intense admiration for the fierce creature. It was truly impressive that she bested both Rougaru and Goose, in the same day (he wasn’t sure if that was a rumor or not). As he let out a friendly call for the skjaldmær, he wondered how he would approach the subject with her. Should he start with an apology? A congratulations? A plea for her mercy? He doubted she would have much interest in the last one. He waited for her small form to appear, and tried to decide.

stallion // 16hh // EE A+a nSty // of the Bay

she marks her fingerprints
in my skin
i breathe her perfume in
and it burns like heroin
now she's in me
and i can't let her go