Voodoo snorted as he stepped into the markets. They were his favorite place in the court, a place where all were welcome and most could find what they were seeking. Stretching his heavily muscled form, he delighted in the feel of his intricately marked pelt sliding over well trained and honed limbs. He was a warrior, having been trained from birth. Recently, he had been assigned as a guard to a member of a lesser noble house that was residing in Denocte. Shaking his head, he felt the sting of his ivory mane as it struck his flesh. Pain was nothing more than a test to prove his strength.
Striding forward with almost feline grace, he began to browse the merchants' wares, making small purchases here and there that could be delivered to his home. After stopping in a lesser populated area, he began to watch. His icy blue eyes followed horses as they did their business. He smirked as he watched
couples embrace and head towards more private quarters. Shoppers danced through the markets, each searching for the perfect items at the best prices. A few loud words and minor scuffles could be heard around certain merchants, no doubt horses bickering over the purchase of wares.
Resting a rear hoof on its tip, Voodoo continued to watch the world around him with curious eyes. It would be interesting to integrate himself into life in this court...
@
"Speaking." Notes: Open <3 New boy needs to meet others XD
Ira goes to the market to clear out the remainder of his skins and wares. He does so methodically, with an aura of ritual. He had tanned several hides that were not ready until now; and he takes the leather, folded neatly, to the vendor he has always gone to. The man congratulates him on his new position, and Ira smiles—he goes so far as to demand to pay extra for the tanned skins and leather, to which Ira refuses. He begins to leave the market feeling nostalgic, and if—well, as if he is departing from a staple of his life. Ira’s entire life has been dedicated to the market in some way or another, since he was a boy. His father first frowned on hunting, and then realized what a profitable endeavor it was. There were not many equines who wished to surpass their natural instinct as a herbivore and kill animals for clothing and wares.
(It bothers Ira sometimes, still. But he lets these thoughts run down the current of his mind as water does a river. He does not linger on them).
Especially as he breaks away, beginning to exit the market.
Ira can’t quite bring himself to do so, just yet. The uphill climb back toward Denocte carries with it a sense of finality; and so rather than take that path, Ira loops back around. He takes the route he knows few walk, so he might observe the place of his growing up without stepping out of it. Just a moment more, Ira thinks—
However, Ira finds the spot he liked to frequent occupied.
“Are you newer in our Court?” Ira asks, conversationally. He approaches from behind, but did not intend to surprise or sneak up on the other man. He speaks well before he is near him and, once there, stands abreast. Ira finds the other stallion striking in his coloring and form. The stranger is taller than Ira by far, which he does not feel intimidated by, but merely notes with a kind of curiosity. He recognizes a soldier’s build when he sees it, and they are odds in the way Ira possesses all the wiry musculature of a wild animal versus the strength of a man who practices for it. “It’s beautiful,” Ira remarks, next, of the controlled chaos below.
How we live is so different from how we ought to live that he who studies what ought to be done rather than what is done will learn the way to his downfall rather than to his preservation.
Voodoo's eyes traveled over the stallion that had approached, taking measure and allowing himself the moment of curiosity at the face. There was something similar, be it the hues of his pelt or the icyness of his eyes. Whatever it was, he decided to put away the mask of shadows and reach for indifference. The other, a unicorn judging by the horn between his eyes, was smaller than he, though size didnt always mean anything. Voodoo was also new enough that he would not know this stallion from any other should he have any special roles.
"I am. I transferred to this court for a position as a body guard. I originally hail from Solterra." He admitted, nodding his head slightly as he kept his eyes on the other. "I am Voodoo." He offered, not particularly kindly, but definitely not as cold as he could be. Had it been a mare that had approached, he would have found himself slipping into the airs of seduction, simply to see what he could do in this court. As it was, he found himself curious about the stallion and wondering what roles he filled in this court.
The other stallion's reaction to the markets had Voodoo's gaze drifting across them once again. "The colors and almost dance of those shopping are eye catching, but it is also chaotic and messy. Perhaps the beauty comes from the disorder of the market..." He answered, seeing the beauty amid the frenzy. Was that how his life would be with the new career? Would he find himself seeking moments of beauty amid the chaos? The soldier found himself introspective as he gazed at the mingling bodies and vivid colors. Would he find a place where he truly belonged?
"So... What does a resident of Denocte do for fun?" He asked casually, trying to hide the fascination that had overtaken him at the idea of a new start.
@Ira
"Speaking." Notes: lol poor oblivious guy. I would not be surprised if he offends Ira at some point XD
I am. I transferred to this Court for a position as a body guard. I originally hail from Solterra. I am Voodoo. Ira finds this information somewhat surprising, in that the other man is not a native. He supposes, now that Voodoo has spoken, Ira recognizes it in the subtle shifts of their different, regional accents.
“Ira,” he returns, politely. Their dispositions are not clashing, insomuch that Ira speaks cooly, nearly curtly, to most. The vast majority of his thoughts and feelings he keeps beneath a mild expression.
He listens to the other stallion describe the markets; he finds himself making a noncommittal noise of agreement. “Well put. Perhaps you’re more of a native than you say,” Ira says, with an air of severity that makes it difficult to tell if he’s joking. He is, but his humor has always been the dryer sort.
So… what does a resident of Denocte do for fun? he asks.
Would he be a son of Denocte if his eyes did not flash, as a fox’s do, before striking the mouse hidden in the grass? Ira’s smile is brief and flitting and feral. “That question requires an example ,” Ira says, stepping forward and down the the pathway, toward the city. He casts a glance over his shoulder. “Would you like me to show you?”
How we live is so different from how we ought to live that he who studies what ought to be done rather than what is done will learn the way to his downfall rather than to his preservation.
Voodoo listens to the simple name given for the stallion beside him, dipping his head. "It is a pleasure to meet you." He responded with smirk. There was something about this stallion that made him feel like they could have fun causing some sort of mischief. Not that he was usually prone to impish behavior. Voodoo had been trained to be a soldier, though there was an undercurrent of trickery under his muscled facade.
The larger stallion snorted at the words, wondering if he hadnt been meant for a darker court. "Perhaps... Solterra served me well in my time there, though training to be a warrior makes it hard to appreciate what is around you. Perhaps I should decorate myself in the richness of the market... Might make me look more native even." He chuckled, shooting a wink at the other stallion as he found humor in the idea that he had found a place to belong. His humor was usually self-deprecating... His own mother had told him he didnt belong in a court. A big part of his drive was to prove her wrong and yet, the words from the other did find themselves at the forefront of his mind. Had he finally found a place where he belonged?
The brief flash and feral grin called to Voodoo's inner imp, making him respond in kind. Perhaps this stallion was one that could truly show him a good time. As Ira strode toward the city, Voodoo followed. His muscles played under his pelt as he followed with amusement coloring his features. "Lead the way..." He offered with a flick of his muzzle, curiosity welling within him as he kept up with easy grace. This could turn out fun.
