Meadow

Step one: Proclaim intent to lead the Lagoon, despite the few ghosts living there not knowing who he was and being completely unsure if he would be voted in or voted against.

Step two: Challenge for the freedom of a taken bachelor (the guy who used to be the damn Marauder no less), who no one else in the Lagoon had stepped forward to stand up for yet.

Step three: Visit known Lagoon harassers and let them know things are going to be a little different if they keep needling the Lagoon going forward.

Step four: Recruit.

Even though it had been numerous years since Psychedelic had done these things, it turned out to be second-nature, easy to fall back naturally into. His blood had been of the Lagoon, always, and his formative years had seen him grow among the twisted shadows of trees and shallow mud in the low grounds. The Lagoon and the band of brothers he’d lived with had been what had raised him and shaped him into the creature he was.

He was also no stranger to the place being emptied out and quiet as it was now, though this time it seemed… pathetic. In the past the Lagoon was empty because the islands were empty. It had been brave of the current boss (former boss?) and his buddies to try and reform the ocean-bordered bachelor territory. It took a lot of work to go against the grain of what had been deeply rooted for years. But for however brave it’d been it was still very, very stupid to do. It was never going to last. Even if the so-called current boss resurfaced and if Rehobam chose to come back to the Lagoon now that he was free from the silver-haired witch of the Dunes and they pushed Psychedelic back down and carried on with their united, happy-go-lucky Lagoon… Eventually it would fall. Psychedelic had seen too much, been on these islands for too long, to think elsewise.

Ahead of him through the trees he took note of a dark stallion with a lighter build than his and Psychedelic stalled his gait in order to watch a little while longer. He had no qualms about approaching one of the potential herd leaders of the island, but right now it wasn’t his goal to antagonize someone. He knew it was going to be important to bring in other brothers who wanted to see the Lagoon the way he did.

He might’ve been the most focused he’d ever been.

After it looked as though the other stallion wasn’t prowling the outskirts of the meadow in search of a new herd member to drag home (or so Psychedelic assumed), the paint stallion chose to move toward him.

“You don’t look as new as you smell,” Psychedelic grunted once he was close enough to share a breath with him. His eyes narrowed thoughtfully. “Returning to the islands?” It wasn’t a strange story. Psychedelic himself had left these islands a few times and always found his way back, no matter how much he swore he never wanted to walk these lands again. This time had been different. This time he was pretty sure he wouldn’t be leaving until his corpse was cold on the ground.

“The name’s Psych, from the Lagoon.”

It felt good to say that again. It felt right.