Vadim
stallion | draft x | dunalino pintaloosa | 18hhs
The striking black on his father’s face and the stripes upon Rafe’s pelt had helped to desensitize Vadim to coat patterns that didn’t quite fit the mold. Still, it is not lost on him how pretty the mare is as she steps out of her hiding place among the shadows. Even if her hair is a bit unruly, he finds it endearing upon her petite face. Vadim wants to give another low rumbling nicker to assure her that everything was fine; he can see in her stance that she is still wary of the situation. But the stallion refrains, and just gives a small nod as she greets him and introduces herself.
“My name is Vadim.” he replied. When he was younger, the golden colt wanted everyone to know his calling. To remember it as something good. Now he was positive it was only related to bad things. How long would it take before he could turn that around? Or maybe if everyone just forgot his name altogether.
Vadim realized he was slipping into dark thoughts when he should be focused on the painted mare. He perked his ears further forward, his green eyes resting upon her feminine face. “I can be on my way, if you’d rather be left alone.” he offered. Surely there was a reason she had been tucked away so neatly into the darkness. Vadim had known plenty of times when he wished he hadn’t been found.
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