[PT] NO REST FOR THE WEAK

[El Toro]

OH, TO BE HERE ON THE GROUND

It was time again for Toro to wander off into the wilderness and keep to himself. Everyone was always looking at him funny, always thinking nasty things and those - damn - Pegasi - they were always sneering and sniffing and he’d gotten into one too many fights. Or near-fights. Most of them didn’t have the balls to fight. Couldn’t have their precious wings broken, of course. Try living without them.

He had gotten himself quite far from the court now, the chill in the air was real and no longer a slightly-less-terrible heat upon the sands. He was nearly grateful for it, but his body was now accustomed to the Solterran climate and was beginning to rebel against his travel plans. It was all well and good; he’d had some days to cool off by now and was planning to turn back as soon as he could. He was starting to recognize this place and all he could think of was being beaten bloody by Raymond. What an asshole. Toro was certain he’d make it up to the red stallion next they met, but he hadn’t seen Raymond since (nor had he had a proper battle), and so it all went…unresolved. Toro never liked to let a loss linger too long. It was shameful.

He was about thinking of turning around when spotted a piebald stranger not far off, and, having buried (in shallow graves) his most recently suffered indignancies back home, thought to say ”Hello,” (from a good distance of nearly ten feet away).

@Ipomoea | Woman

"What I say,"

What I think,

CREDITS

[Ipomoea]

you got me nervous

It was curiosity that drew him to the Steppe - and a healthy dose of apprehension. Ipomoea was not a fighter, and had never and would never aspire to be a fighter. And yet…

It was undeniable; the ability to defend yourself was an invaluable skill.

In his time as Regent, he had watched others lose their positions in challenge. But it was the most recent changes to Solterra, and word that the silver queen had lost not only her crown, but also her life on these very fields, that had been like a slap of cold water, awakening him from slumber. He had been lucky, so far; Delumine was a far quieter court than their eastern neighbors, with far less turmoil. But it was not immune entirely. Even Pavetta had planned to challenge Orion (and, he suspected it was the threat alone that had caused the two-toned man to relinquish his duty.)

The ground has been torn up by many hooves in many battles over the years, and he picks his way across the field carefully. Is that where it happened? he thinks, eyeing a circle of earth with questionably-dark stains, the battle that changed the fate of Day?

He looks away quickly, feeling a bit of bile rising in his throat. I’m not supposed to be here, I can find a trainer at home, this can wait—

“Hello.”



He froze, about to turn away and head back home, when the voice interrupts his thoughts. Ipomoea turns slowly towards the cream-coated stranger, with eyes the color of gemstones.

“Hello.”



He bites his lip, scuffing one hoof against the ground. His wings are fluttering; nervous. For a moment he’s silent - what do you say in situations like these, wanna fight? - before he clears his throat and gestures abstractly around them.

“It’s a nice day out, isn’t it?" he asks, painfully aware that here is not the place most people make small talk about the weather.

@Ipomoea | "speaks" | notes: text

x