The spotted mare is correct in her assumption that one is never truly alone. Shadows forever swirl and dance, linger and haunt, constant reminders even when a physical body is not present. As fate would decide though, today is one brimming with a multitude of new acquaintances and the required formalities. Perhaps he is a fool to continuously wander the common grounds, laden with fraternizing groups, when inwardly he truly craves quiet companionship and possibly a short rest. The sooty stallion does not remember a time that he was not either surrounded by strangers or wandering haphazardly by himself. The recent days have bled together, a watercolor blur of muted fawn and dreary grey, with no story to convey or events to memorialize. He too finds the daylight manageable; it is the darkness that brings the overbearing proverbial storm clouds. Deep brown eyes watch her with curiosity, catching the acknowledging flick of her tail. The polka dot girl does not seem concerned by his approach - maybe he will not turn her playtime into a ruinous affair. Antsy as he is at the thought of play, mammoth sized hooves shifting to contain the exuberance bubbling beneath his amiable demeanor. He has lived but three years, and though his gargantuan build may contraindicate, he is still juvenile himself. He is beginning to grasp the concept of independence as reality has crept upon him, leaving no choice but to stand on his own. The taste of new found freedom remains bittersweet for the boy, as he knows not the expectations associated with living alone. The pressures often placed upon the masculine sex to claim a home, collect trinkets, and generally make an attempt at world domination have yet to prove alluring. The lack of ambition will more than likely prove temporary, but for the current he remains unperturbed with being homeless and having nothing of worth associated with his name. Or, at least, those are the words he would have you believe. Finally, after mere moments that drug out like hours, she affixes her gaze upon him. The emerald of her eyes is yet another captivating piece in her oddball puzzle - the spotted pelt in combination with her eyes a sight previously unseen by the brute. He tucks his nose to his own chest timidly, pondering the extent of her exotic features while being painfully aware of the plainness of his own murky brown wrapper. The inquisitive tilt of her head renders his attention back upon her, a small smile tickling his lips at the adorable picture she presents. She speaks, calling his black-tipped ears to stand at attention, soaking up the conversation she offers forth. Grace. The name is as delightful as the girl appears. The invitation to play is given suddenly, igniting a flicker of excitement behind weary eyes. "I thought you would never ask." The deep tenor of his voice barely masks the eagerness within his words. Long legs move into a brisk trot, newly-developing muscles becoming well-defined as he arches his neck. Gently extending his muzzle, velvet skin brushes against the crest of her neck for but a moment. He dances away quicker than he came forth, moving much more lithely than one would be expected to with his stature. He pauses a few yards away, almost prancing in place, waiting for her to reciprocate the game he has begun. |