N A T I V E • S H A M A N
{ || Shaman || Stallion || 10 years || Mood; Content|| Tag; Phantom Masquerade }
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Shaman slid to a stop as a sweet whinny hit his audits. The stallion, automatically knew it was a mare, because the wind brought the scent along. He bobbed his head and and snickered in reply, coming over the small hill. His eyes lit up when he saw the origin of the whicker. A bay mare. She was very slender, athletic looking, and very beautiful. She was a prize indeed. What baffled him though, was why no other stallion had claimed the lovely dove.surely there had to be some other stallion watching her as well. Shaman tossed his mane, pushing the thought to the side, other stallions didn't matter, what mattered was the mare.
The paint stallion arched his neck and began trotting towards the mare, managingt o keep a level head, even though all his senses were going haywire, he resisted the urge. He came up to the mares nose, extending his muzzle in greeting to her, letting out a soft nicker, as if to say "hello." shaman didn't make another move until he knew the mare was comfortable, he wouldn't push her if she wasn't ready. Now that Shaman was closer, he could now tell that the mare obviously had Arabian in her genes. It was easy to tell, by her chiseled facial features, her long legs, and the way she held her head. The body of a Queen.. He just hoped he'd let him be her king.
{ || Shaman || Stallion || 10 years || Mood; Content|| Tag; Phantom Masquerade }
____________________________________________________________________________
Shaman slid to a stop as a sweet whinny hit his audits. The stallion, automatically knew it was a mare, because the wind brought the scent along. He bobbed his head and and snickered in reply, coming over the small hill. His eyes lit up when he saw the origin of the whicker. A bay mare. She was very slender, athletic looking, and very beautiful. She was a prize indeed. What baffled him though, was why no other stallion had claimed the lovely dove.surely there had to be some other stallion watching her as well. Shaman tossed his mane, pushing the thought to the side, other stallions didn't matter, what mattered was the mare.
The paint stallion arched his neck and began trotting towards the mare, managingt o keep a level head, even though all his senses were going haywire, he resisted the urge. He came up to the mares nose, extending his muzzle in greeting to her, letting out a soft nicker, as if to say "hello." shaman didn't make another move until he knew the mare was comfortable, he wouldn't push her if she wasn't ready. Now that Shaman was closer, he could now tell that the mare obviously had Arabian in her genes. It was easy to tell, by her chiseled facial features, her long legs, and the way she held her head. The body of a Queen.. He just hoped he'd let him be her king.
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