Common

The red male wasn't subtle, but I assumed there was little value in subtlety here. We both knew why he had approached me, just as I imagined we both knew how he expected this interaction to go. Living with my mother had been hellacious in many ways, not the least of which having to endure her constant scrutiny and lectures on the fine art of body language. Every small motion given was information into a creatures mood, motivations and desires. And every bit of information was worth holding, lest you someday needed to use it to your advantage.

Thus, as he approaches with a mat of hair hanging off one side of his face, fully camouflaging an eye, I am forced to assume he is either going through an emotional phase or has no desire to use that eye. Injured? Different? Scarred? I don't yet know, but I mark it down all the same. As I do the way his eyes seem to be pinned on me with the sort of intensity and focus I usually see in predators chasing down prey. Considering me prey is laughable, but I cannot blame this stranger for not knowing that. I allow my tail to flick against my hocks, a small sign of displacement, lacking aggression. The expression on my face, too, is neutral, the equivalent of a brow cocked as I shift my weight to my hind end and pivot to face him, not wanting to leave my sides exposed.

Though the stallion is probably somewhere around my age, he looks as though life has run him ragged. His ropey muscles are lean and covered with a plethora of scars and marks that remind me rather poignantly of my own father, although I can't imagine Rougaru ever approaching a stallion in the Commons with this much intent. In contrast, my idle life of travelling had granted me a trim physique with few scars to mar the silvery-purple of my body. I can only imagine that if I say the wrong thing and provoke him I will come out on the losing end. Again, a small flick of my tail, this time accompanied by the faintest softening of my expression.

His words ring in my ears and I am not entirely certain the best way to answer him. I wasn't particularly searching for any of those things except maybe a home, although even as I said that I knew that wasn't wholly true. If I wanted a home, I knew the places I could go. The places like Paradise and the Desert that were steeped in my parent's blood and memories. The Commons, at least for me, was an excuse for novelty. "Something like that," I murmur nonchalantly. "Travelling gets boring after a time. There's only so many times you can see the isles before they start to blur together."

I let a beat of natural silence drop and then spoke again, offering a question back to him. "And you? What have you come in search of, islander?"