[AW] A Little Geography Never Hurt Anyone

[Somnus]

S O M N U S "What if I fall?" "Oh, but my darling, what if you fly?" He does not remain alone for long. It is the scent that catches his awareness first, something that smelt sweetly of the sun and distinctly feminine. Somnus does not immediately look her way, for he is in the midst of satiating his thirst from his travels and his unknown companion seems to have no desire to venture any closer quite yet. That was fine with him, for he is sure to be poor company given the sweat slowly drying upon his body and otherwise disheveled appearance. Only after his parched tongue was satisfied did the golden tactician lift his head, droplets of water rolling from his lips before falling into the stream down below. Sharp eyes of rich emerald eventually seek her out, his unknown visitor, and she is easy to spot amidst the sparse green trees and the otherwise yellow brittle grasses of the plains around them. Though appearing to be of similar height, the young mare is a uniquely feminine creature, with luscious locks of golden-ivory cascading and framing her lovely face in generous waves. There was much about her, from her rich flaxen color to the intricate chrome markings that danced across her flesh, but those were all simply detailed observations. They were facts which Somnus tucked neatly into the orderly files of his mind, ready to be fetched in a moment's notice. This encounter, just like all the others that he had faced while his short time in Novus, would be treated just the same. She calls out, and the silver-tongue stallion does not miss the unhappy, unsatisfied dulcet tones of her voice. A scorcher? The weather? Ah, yes. It was. Horrendously so, and upon clearing his throat, Somnus went to answer. "Indeed." Simple, direct, and to the point, but such a simple word did not hide or squander the eloquence of his accent. That was simply the kind of fellow that he was. Many whom he had encountered in the past had called him a 'man of few words'. Honestly, though, Somnus just loathed to waste his breath on the unimportant. He never had been one for incessant, pointless rambling... Then, because he had been taught since colt-hood to be just as polite as he was studious, he went on, dipping his onyx crown towards the stream at his hooves. "A pleasure, miss. Would you care for a drink?"

@Bexley