A grin of welcome flashing bright on the dark face and the young stallion could but return it with a similar expression. It eased tension from the muscles along his back and soothed the loneliness that still lingered in the depths of him. As the waves buffeted him laughter pealed from his lips, no longer uncertain of this stranger cloaked in velvet night and sea water like some siren's steed. In his travels he had heard of a people who believed that horses had come from the ocean, created by some god which dwelt there. This, his first sight of the ocean and the presence of the dark stallion, lent the tale weight and context. He could see how such a creature could be born of the wild black waters.
For once, someone else has asked the first question. His ears flick briefly back, not in anger or fear but in some uncertainty. He is not sure how he feels about his adopted homeland at the moment and he did not think where he dwelt would be so readily obvious. Then again, Vadim was a creature of sand and wind and was it not obvious to the observant that he could be naught but a desert creature?
"Recently," he admits with a tilting of his head, casting one pale eye's gaze towards the other equine, blue iris turned near white. Color stolen by the moon-robbed night. "And you are Night court? Or wave-born siren come to see what land is like?"
The first is a shot in the dark, a wild guess based on the setting that surrounds them. Who else would be so at home in the darkness? He had only what the old sage had told him about the courts and he did not still quite understand their differences and nuances. Besides, he had been told ancient history- that could have little bearing on the modern courts or it could say a lot. The second question was edged with laughter, a playful taunt meant only to breathe a little more light into the starless dark.
The waves lifted him briefly free of the sand and his forelimbs tread automatically for traction. His eyes flashed, startled briefly as his hooves splashed up plumes of water as early they had thrown up sand. Then another peal of laughter escaped him, breathless with a jangly combination of nerves and excitement. The water let him down and his hooves again touched the loam-soft sand though it was hardly a foundation to trust. Still, touching the earth gave him some comfort. Was this what it was to fly? To be lifted free of the earth? How utterly strange.
[ @Reichenbach Thanks!! Most definitely ^.^ ]
