lukasz was unseasoned, at best, when it came to dealing with the fairer sex. like his bratri his future couplings were somewhat pre-arranged back in the vlast. he was the youngest of his siblings, destined to train with the stráže until his turn came to join a new rodina and even then his choice would have been limited. he would have been sent to the herd most in need of his pure blood, of his size and strength. not for love, or for attraction… though he had always believed that if he was dutiful, those good things would come to him in time. out here, in the world past the vlast that he could have never imagined, things were much more complex. he was on his own, without the mentorship of his family or the traditions of his people to guide his heart. though salem does feel the touch of winter, he aches for the cold of his old home… his soul cries out to see blankets of white, preparing the world for the new birth of spring. normally he does not give in to these cravings, knowing that they only lead to more heartache, but his memories of the vlast do not seem to hurt so sharply lately. perhaps he is strong enough to indulge himself. the air is refreshing and despite the frigid cold of the seawater that drips from his sides, lukasz smiles gently. though his little trips to the crossing never seem to end with any amount of success, he can’t help but feel a small blossom of hope in his chest at the prospect of new friendships. the thin white crust of snow, patched here and there over the brown drying grass, is just enough to reassure him that winter still lives, still threatens it’s great storms and bluster. he is an imposing figure, an inch over seventeen hands, but since the great tragedy as he recalls it, his stature has changed. no longer is he proud of having the krev of his people. it only makes him strange, different in comparison to the straight faced people of this land. he doesn’t arch his neck and strut as some great massive and handsome stallions might but travels in a more subtle relaxed manner, with his large roman nose bobbing gently low and inconspicuously. when he reaches the bank of the river he lowers his velvety black muzzle into the clear water, drinking his fill. when his head rises, dark brown eyes lifting curiously to see what occupants the falls held today, he only spies one creature. she surveys the area similarly, with an expression that is hard for him to read. she is the color of fall, of fire, and instantly lukasz looks down, away from her as if he had been burned. when he looks up next she is gone, sauntering away from the river’s edge with an expression much softer than the one he first witnessed. something about her presence still feels dangerous, predatory, and for a moment lukasz wishes he could pretend as if there were somewhere, anywhere else, that he should be. her manner exudes the desire to be recognized though, and he knows she has likely seen him. his lips part, nickering gently as he nods his head in acknowledgement toward the beautiful mare, but his dark hooves remain firmly grounded alongside the water’s edge. he would not even entertain the idea that he might be the type who would be able to entice such a creature’s company.
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