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,
