Octavius

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stallion | 18.0hhs | Lost son of nowhere

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With the gentle brush of the ocean against his sides rose a stallion from the surf. Eyes of a steady amber blinked slowly as heavily muscled legs pulled from the sea. Lifting each dinner plate sized hoof had the stallion holding in a grunt, but his eyes never showed the pain upon his body, cuts and bruises littering his frame. He had left the Peak earlier in the season, but he had not managed to make it unscathed. Cuts from sharp rocks and bruises from a few tumbled lined his frame under his grey palette body.


Shaking his head with a faint sigh, Octavius looked out over the desert once his hooves quit moving forward. He had been searching for a home, one he could just grow and be stronger in. Maybe, in the future, he could also bring his sister to the place he ended up living. For now though, the draft stallion let his head tilt to the side as he eyed the various types of vegetation and other desert-like items upon the island he now stood.


Salem. That was where he was. Octavius had heard of Salem, but had never left the crossing island until he had left his sister once they had settled the bit they had needed to. He had left her with the protection of the silent peak and he would not be returning. He considered himself free of this place, but that would change in time if he was not careful. Licking his lips though, the large stallion sent out a faint call once he was sure he could take a breath without salt water cruising against his cuts. He wanted to see if he could make a home here, one where he could be useful. That all did start with speaking with the leader though, and that was what he was currently working on.