While Raymond had grown up in the arid badlands and under big skies, it did not take much time wandering through the yellow vastness of the Mors Desert to decide that a proper sandy desert was not really his scene. It had taken him even less time to lowkey regret instructing Ruth to remain at Solterra's southern border, which made the proposition of fielding alternating waves of the Tarrasque's smugness and sullenness all the less enjoyable. But he had dealt with discomfort before.
If there was any horse horse that felt equally at home sleeping in squalid mud wallows as brushing shoulders with the political and social elite, it was Raymond. His self-esteem needed little shoring up and he was quite happy to lose so long as he survived, so hardship had never been difficult for the red stallion to bear, but he couldn't help but entertain a small sigh of relief when the vast uninterrupted waste gave way to a pocket of lurid greenery and water.
He was not, it seemed, the first to stumble across such a blessing today.
Instantly on alert, Raymond slowed as he approached the spotted mare bent low over the watering hole. Regardless of his intentions - and for once they were predominantly good and uncomplicated, by his standards - one could never tell how a meeting of strangers in a strange land might unfold, especially when one of them had no choice but to be lethally armed at all times. Perhaps she was territorial; perhaps she harbored a vendetta against the people of Denocte. Whatever the case, tucking a readied action behind his cordial expression was a small price to pay to prevent imminent stabbing.
"Is there room for two?" he called out, announcing his presence long before he could ever be accused of sneaking. Though streaked with the dust and sweat of travel through the desert, he seemed remarkably put-together.
If there was any horse horse that felt equally at home sleeping in squalid mud wallows as brushing shoulders with the political and social elite, it was Raymond. His self-esteem needed little shoring up and he was quite happy to lose so long as he survived, so hardship had never been difficult for the red stallion to bear, but he couldn't help but entertain a small sigh of relief when the vast uninterrupted waste gave way to a pocket of lurid greenery and water.
He was not, it seemed, the first to stumble across such a blessing today.
Instantly on alert, Raymond slowed as he approached the spotted mare bent low over the watering hole. Regardless of his intentions - and for once they were predominantly good and uncomplicated, by his standards - one could never tell how a meeting of strangers in a strange land might unfold, especially when one of them had no choice but to be lethally armed at all times. Perhaps she was territorial; perhaps she harbored a vendetta against the people of Denocte. Whatever the case, tucking a readied action behind his cordial expression was a small price to pay to prevent imminent stabbing.
"Is there room for two?" he called out, announcing his presence long before he could ever be accused of sneaking. Though streaked with the dust and sweat of travel through the desert, he seemed remarkably put-together.
Raymond.
"he's an outlaw loose and runnin'," came the whisper from each lip
"and he's here to do some business with the big iron on his hip."
"he's an outlaw loose and runnin'," came the whisper from each lip
"and he's here to do some business with the big iron on his hip."
@Mantis | sorry for the wait!
aut viam inveniam aut faciam
