Raymond had begun his visit to the festival with a demonstration of his art; now he watched another as a pale-spotted mare with flowers in her hair danced across the stage, weaving a story of her own with her body. Thankfully no one was likely to compare the two, as her grace and beauty inspired appreciative sighs from onlookers while his likely inspired a whole new generation of strangers to avoid him in dark alleyways.
The red stallion joined in lauding the performance as it drew to a close. By the volume of cheers, she seemed well-liked (or at least well-known) among those in attendance, a fact that did not escape his notice.
A small crowd flocked about her as she left the stage and Raymond lingered patiently, each brief exchange of pleasantries bringing him nearer. When activity had died down enough for the spotted mare to make her way unmolested toward an array of refreshments he drifted seamlessly into her orbit.
"That was quite a performance," he said, the tone of his voice that of an appreciative art afficionado rather than a hungry suitor. Messalina may be lovely and capable of producing lovely choreography, but nothing about the red stallion's bearing suggested he was there to perform a seduction: 'predatory' was not among his list of character traits.
and at his feet they'll cast their golden crowns
when the man comes around
@Messalina
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
