center of fate [o]

[Kara]

Her brown eyes stared wistfully out through the wattles, the lake sat towards the center of the terrain and though she was more willing to head out into the open right now, she knew it would be a bad idea. Especially, if she wanted to keep her freedom. Men could be anywhere, especially at this time of the day! 'Though it'd be nice to get a drink or something...' She sighed, flicking her long, midnight tail across her haunches.

Why did she have to be brought up like she was? Perhaps if she'd been given different training from her dam, she would have walked freely across the plain in an ignorant bliss. 'And then a man would come along and bang! Good by happy ending.' She thought with a huff. Damn autumn, why did it have to attract those two legged creatures? Why don't they just stay away. Then life would indeed be bliss.

ooc. first post with her. xD Open for whomever. ^^

[{ Opal }]

He hadn't really intended to go to the lake. No, he had been more interested in the areas with more heavy greenery. Like the mare, he was a careful creature, but not afraid like she, rather just practical in mindset.
But, you see, the colt's (he had the maturity of a stallion, but alas he was only two years of age) plans went to waste. For he was thirsty, perhaps a bit bored, and the thought of the nearby lake was simply too difficult to resist. And so he crested the rise above the lake, his mane and tail- cut into two colors, black and white- livened by a breath of wind. To the mare below, he would appear a bay and white brumby, slightly stocky in build but by no means unattractive. He turned his eyes, which were a pale blue, to gaze across the landscape from his lookout. It seemed safe enough; and he failed to see the silver-dappled mare in the bush.

He headed down the slope, taking his steps with ease, his strong legs carrying him down. He continued toward the lake, his mane and tail swinging slightly with each step. He kept his eyes peeled for movement as he approached the still water, although he did not expect any men here.
Reaching the shore, the colt lowered his head to drink. After a few swallows of the good, cold stuff, he raised his head again. A scent, just a slight one, tickled his nose. A mare. Bultarro (for that was his name) pricked his ears, but decided not to go after the scent. His curiosity was not such that he would rudely disturb the mare. He lowered his head to drink again, and quietly hoped that he'd get some company from the elusive mare.

[Rivre]

Autumn came to the high-country as a greatly annoying season. The waxy yellowed leaves would fall to carpet the wilting green grass, mud clogging the gaps between the stems; a chill would finally creep into the breeze, stirring the herds and leaving the horses in turmoil. It wasn't even a real season, an inbetweener! At least, that is how the bulky sooty mare chose to look upon it. She traveled with purpose but no particular speed; her passage was neither wary nor quiet, hooves thudding into the moist ground and spraying mud up the contours of her hind legs. In fact, her travel was ... noisey. If a more cautious creature had seen her in her travels (as man had to be sure) it would be easy for them to acknowledge she had no regard for her own safety - but in truth this was not entirely the case. Lamilla, although yes, disregarding of her own hide's safety, thought nothing on the matter of capture, or of wantsome stallions. If one engaged her in a conversation long enough, and was not as incompetant as some of the more weary stallions, perhaps he could convince her to trudge along behind him.

But none had never queried her so, for most thought her unworthy, loud and a trouble to their herds. Which didn't bother her at all, she was content to wander alone in her own mannerism, without being told how to walk or what to say that was considered appropriate conversation for mares of her age. She was neither young, nor old, not old eough to be a nuisance anyway, so as you would imagine, telling Lamilla what to do, was quite similar to giving a man a gun and a bullet, then aiming it at their own head.

Today, she was traversing the incline leading up to the Cootapatamba, breathing hard and snorting every so often in her impatience. For some reason unknown to her, she had become desperately thirsty, and even if it meant encountering stupid young colts or merry little fillies, she was intent on serving her purpose here - to quench that thirst. Anybody that got in her way today would surely regret it, for she was in no mood to mess around. Heaving her black smudged self up to crest the last rise, ears pricked as sight of the gaping mouth of water submerged her visions, so enaged was she that one might of thought she were surveying for danger, up until the point where was failed to notice the younger colt drinking and went charging on at a furious trot, down the steep snowgrass plain.

Of course, she did after a while of peering at the lake, realize the brumby's presence, but it caused no desperation within her, no desire and no fear, so she carried on regardless, churning up the ground with her heavy foot-falls. Lowering her head abruptly, so that thick black mane cascaded like a waterfall down her neck, Lamilla let her lips touch the cool surface, gulping at the waters with haste. The liquid quickly soothed the itch in her throat, and then the thirst in her stomach, and she peered up at the coloured horse, almost curious. He was not too young, perhaps two or three years of age, a stallion maybe?

Lamilla, although stocky, could not be denied to be wonderfully odd to gaze upon. She was taller than her 15hh dam, but shorter than her 16hh sire, lean with good proportions and a sweeping mass of wavy black mane and tail. Her hide was a smutty golden colour, luminous when the sun's rays caught in the short hairs, dappled with a silvery black and smudged in places with a deeper black. And again, although her travel was obnoxious, her manner was strangely graceful, her hooves good and strong from thunderous gallops and good grazing in wet grasses. But she did not think of this when gazing at the colt, merely looked without speaking for some moments, then decided to offer him some advice. "You are young colt, I am aged, go and find some fillies to play with - you are attractive enough and it will surely provide you with much happiness to be off galavanting with a herd of your own." Her tone was guarded, unfriendly and forthright, and a look of contempt spread slowly across her features, black pools seeming to sweep across the landscape for a better route home - the first had been too steep for her liking.

If she had been more observant, and if she had only looked closer to see the interest sparking in the colt's eyes, perhaps Lamilla would have seen the thrid pair of eyes and not bothered to speak at all. She just thought it was a wasted horse if he spent his time up here, alone and smewhat unhappy.

[Kara]

Namarra studied the lake as the wind swept across its surface, creating ripples which spread and expanded in size. Her black tipped ears flicked forward, watching with a mild interest as the ripples turned into small waves which lapped at the shore.

At the sight of the water, her throat instantly began to itch. 'Ughh...come on, just go!' She lifted a hoof, but that was how far she got when a younger horse stepped forward. He was hansome, to say the least, with an unusually patterened coat. Namarra would look so plain against his pretty hide...but she shouldn't be thinking about that right now. She should be worrying about her thirst, maybe she would end up dying of thirst right here cause she was too much of a scaredy horse to go out and get a drink.

Her lips pushed out in a pout, but she kept her eyes on the colt. 'Come on Namarra, go out there! Stop being stupid!' She sighed, knowing that she had to do it sooner or later. Either her thirst would drive her from hiding, or she would just go out and not worry about what he thought. Well...the second idea seemed the most logical, as Namarra was not really that willing to wait until her thirst got the better of her.

Slowly, she siddled out from under the wattle she was hiding under and stood out. Movement from her left instantly caught her eye, and Namarra was shocked to see another horse bounding to the lake. "Oh goodness..." Her eyes widened, was this her day or what? She snorted, oh well, she may as well go the rest of the way now that she had exposed herself. Quietly, she moved through the snowgrass right up to the edge of the lake, where she quickly dropped her nose to the water and drank her fill, enjoying the water as it trickled down her throat. Her ears flickered, catching the last part of what the sooty mare was saying to the colt.

[{ Opal }]

Bultarro's ears flicked back at the sound of crumbling rock cascading down the ridge behind him. He angled his head so that he had a view, and to his surprise he discovered another mare. This one was a curious color, a mottled gold with black overtones. She had her eye set on the water below, so Bultarro paid her arrival no heed, and returned his muzzle to the lake.
The mare came to drink beside him. As her head came up, she shot him a sideways glance and said, "You are young colt, I am aged, go and find some fillies to play with - you are attractive enough and it will surely provide you with much happiness to be off galavanting with a herd of your own." Her voice was almost stern-sounding. Bultarro simply huffed through widened nostrils, for most of what the mare said was simply stating the obvious. "And what of you? Don't you deserve to be happy as well?" he asked, his tone nearly matching hers, for he had a loose manner of speech that sometimes harbored a snide or scathing tone. Still, that did not impact the honestly with which he said his words.

Bultarro stopped to nip at a forlorn clump of grass, and when his head arose again he found the other mare, the first one, approaching. She was a silvery-grey color, the mottles in her hide reminding him of the ones on the mare beside him.
He provided her with courtesy nicker of welcome, just to show her that he meant no harm, and then returned to the remaining wisps of grass. A few moments of silence ensued, and Bultarro felt the need to speak. "You may call me Bultarro, if anyone is interested," he said, in between chews. Again his words were not serious nor eager, more of a wandering tone, as he glanced back and forth between the two mares. He was certainly glad of their company, and he had to admit he longed to have mares as such in his herd, for at the moment he had none. But he refrained from mentioning such thoughts as this; he doubted that it would impress the mares present.

[Rivre]

Lamilla chose to ignore the presence of the other mare and her approach, for nothing irritated her more than a mare eager to flaunt herself before other stallions, and this grey was seemingly no different. She was not one to give second-chances and so this was how she deemed the brumby newest to their group. The moment her attention was divded from the bay and white colt, he sent words spiralling her way, somewhat snide and rather cocky for one of his age. Ears flattened and she angled her rump his way with an angry stamp of a hoof. She was far superior to this infant! He could certainly do to learn some manners of his own. Allowing the silence to dwindle into her weapon, black gaze drifted to the other mare, drinking quietly and offering no words of her own. Did she have no tongue? Snorting impatiently Lamilla also chose to ignore the childish introduction of their male counter-part, instead angling pinched gaze at the neutral mare.

"How is it that wherever I do wander, there always seems to be you youngsters meandering about? Do you have nothing better to do?" her query was a genuine one, but her tone still retained it's hardened edge, rather more directed at the colt than this mare, who seemed in fact to be older than she appeared; but she left no room for reply, instead whipping back to face this colt who called himself 'Bultarro' and addressing him instead, "And you, you who are named for the northern winds - what is your purpose here apart from the obvious? Do you not know how to begin talk with one such as myself? You must wait for a mare to introduce herself first, if older than you, and I in turn should be flattered." Allowing her cutting tones to fall upon his deaf ears, Lamilla felt her own ears pin back once more, black banner swishing with annoyance before continuing, "I suppose... I am Lamilla, named for the stones which are never-changing, solid as a rock; and my happiness is best spent wandering, if you might know, like you youngun's."

Despite her misgivings, Lamilla had to admit, she rather... trusted this colt, more-so than the usual bunch of misfits. But first he would have to pass her tests, and she wasn't quite sure yet if she should have the patience to carry on here, or move off to the lower country.

[Kara]

The water was good, nice and sweet. It quickly quenched Namarra's thirst and by the time she looked up again, the duo colored colt spoke. He introduced himself as 'Bultarro'. Namarra stared quietly at him for a moment than nodded. Bultarro seemed like a nice colt, a little on the quiet side, though he didn't seem to be like those other stallions who got to the point of wanting her as a mare for their herd, and because of that, Namarra respected him.

She moved quietly away from the shore, having drunken her fill, she was content to go and converse with these two horses. The mare seemed rather sour though, Namarra didn't like that. How was one meant to make friends when they were so pushy? She found herself shooting the same glares right back at the sooty one, even though she was not in the mood to fight. "It would appear not." She shot back at the mare, before turning her gaze back to the colt, of whom seemed to suddenly be the mares interest. Was she into the younger stallions? Though her demeaner was not one of interest...well, not in that way.

After Lamilla, the sooty mare had finished speaking, Namarra stood up, straightening herself out to make her appear a little more stronger than she appeared. "I would be called Namarra." If anyone had been actually wondering. It seemed that she was once again left out of the circle. Wonderful.

[{ Opal }]

The sooty mare turned her back on him, anger apparent in her every movement. It seemed his words had left her seething. Bultarro gazed at her nonchalantly, being a horse quite difficult to upset, and then with a flick of his ear he turned his head to the dappled grey. But it seemed the dark mare’s silence was not to last; ”How is it that wherever I do wander, there always seems to be you youngsters meandering about? Do you have nothing better to do?" The younger mare bounced back a quick retort, and Bultarro was mulling over his own response when the elder mare turned to face him. Her harsh words fell upon his ears, which had slight backwards cant as they received the mare’s tongue-lashing. At first reaction Bultarro felt anger stir up, but this soon cooled down. He turned a calm eye to the sooty, saying, “My apologies, dear mare. I still have things to learn in the manner of proper conduct; I will take your instructions to heart.” He dipped his head, perhaps acting more courtly than he would normally, but if the sooty mare wanted polite than that’s what she would get.
So, Lamilla was her name. It was fitting, for she did seem quite set in her ways, much like the earth beneath them. But Bultarro got a feeling that her crabby attitude toward him belied some less harsh emotions, so he decided to humor her for the while.

Then the younger mare introduced herself; Namarra, it was. She was standing straight, tall, and dignified, and Bultarro couldn’t help but notice her beauty. He quickly cast that out of his head, and replaced it with a civilized phrase. “I am glad to meet you, Namarra,” he said, then glancing sideways at the sooty. “And Lamilla. It would’ve been lonely here without your company,” he admitted, looking at the wide expanse, devoid of most trees, that encompassed the lake. It was good for spotting men on horseback, but poor when it came to enjoying oneself. He turned back to the mares.
“You don’t see many mares alone nowadays. So, where is it that you two solos are heading?” Bultarro tilted his head Lamilla’s way. “That is, if you don’t mind me asking, Lamilla.” It was a playful tease, that was clear by his tone, and one that Bultarro hoped didn’t offend the mare. But if it did he considered it more her problem than his, in all honesty. Surely Lamilla could respect that.

[Rivre]

Lamilla's ears flickered at the quick retort the opposing mare offered, but that was all - she didn't much care for giving her own name let alone learning others. The young stallion seemed to somewhat understand her complex ways and for that Lamilla felt bound to a sort of pact - he would not insult her and she would tolerate his company for as long as she could comfortably.

The odd ray of sunlight was still breaking through the wavering clouds above, and now one particular streak fell to her mane, lighting the black with a hue of the deepest red, and lacing the hide of her neck to shimmer golden.

To be fair she was what? Only a few years older than this colt, but in a few years one could learn plenty such as; the creamies that work so hard at keeping quiet and leaving no tracks, do in fact eventually get caught at their own game, hence why she traveled with no care for anything but her own hide. Tail swishing to bat away the annoyingly persistent flies, Lamilla was once again addressed with a question, a question to which she should have to answer, since he left her no room to bargain with words. Holding her head a little higher, she began with great dignity, mirroring - or in fact mimicking, for she was not subtle - the other mare's haughty look, "I wander alone for I can stand none of your kind and none can understand me. There is never enough light in a day for a mare like myself to earn their hearts, or woo them, not that I care at all much - I am a lone wolf to be accurate." Surprise flickered across her features at her own honesty, and then she withdrew her emotions, instead harbouring the self-betrayal she felt now deep within her wounded self, ears flickered back once more, this time a little panicked.... Was she loosing her touch? To a colt?