Hit me with your best shot (Nala/Open)

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For a horse used to sparse groves of twisted, dry trees and broad sweeps of grass, the thick forest was a bit of a shock. The roan wandered among the trees, head craned up at the impossibly tall trees around her. It was cooler than her homeland as well, and wetter. She finally lowered her head to snuffle among the dead leaves, acute nose detecting the scents of previous visitors here mixed in with the smells of loam and plants.

Birds and insects flew through the forest, briefly illuminated by the sunbeams that lanced through the trees to pool on the ground, then disappearing into darkness again. The forest enchanted the mare in a such a way that she barely noticed any scents of predators or other horses nearby. It was a verdant and green in a way that she had never seen before. How smart she had been to leave behind her dusty desert kingdom! Being a free roamer was well worth relinquishing her titles and power.

[nala]

Agile yet strong. Thick yet lean. Black yet soft in the night air of spring. Drulan was set almost dead center in the homeland, and although the winter was melting off of the landscape that didn't mean that the fog had quite lifted. Pilate was approaching his sixth year of life, but still he found himself intoxicated by the spring fog that clung to the land in the brief few weeks of the beginning of spring. He couldn't ever get enough of it, even as a child. Today, the sun was able to peak through in a few places of the ancient forest, burning away all traces of the precious gas. Pilate, however, remained in the shadows as always, drinking in the cooling humidity.

His ears perked up only as he heard the twigs begin to snap just to his left. His quest for company had been a great one this year, and although he still traveled alone most of the time, the young stallion was beginning to form friendships and possibly even a few relationships. He smiled as this prospect approached him. It was a nice change. "Hello miss." His bass came softly, careful not to scare the much smaller mare. His chest expanded and his dripping smoke hued coat shone bright as he stepped into view. "Not from around here are you?" He remarked on her louder entrance with a smirk and a twinkle in his eyes.

ooc: hes becoming quite the charmer. His father was my absolute favorite character ever. He's turning into a youthful version.

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Aryel's attention was diverted from the natural wonder around her as a smooth voice reached her ears. She turned to see a larger stallion with a black coat approaching. She wondered how he had know that she was a foreigner, but when she glanced back at her rather noticeable trail, the answer became obvious. A forest-born horse would be far more quiet when they walked. "Is it that obvious?" she asked with a grimace. "I'm from south of here, and where I come from things aren't nearly this overgrown."

She flicked her tail, dispelling a fly that had begun to buzz around her flanks. "I'm Aryel, by the way." she said, smiling. "What about you?"

(Tiny pathetic post is both tiny and pathetic.)

[nala]

Pilate smirked at the answer he received from the mare. She was blunt, and he liked that, but still a certain innocence clung to her. "The names Pilate." He said, raising his head and displaying his full height. "What a beautiful name for such a beautiful southern flower, Aryel." He moved out from his place in the shadows and approached slowly. She was the color of this mist he was so in love with. A mixture of dark and light that intrigued the stallion. He was too the color of smoke, but a much darker version. "I'm not really from here either. My family reigns from the mountains." He thought back to the friendly smile of his mother.

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Aryel tried not to roll her eyes as Pilate complimented both her name and her looks. Although he couldn't have possibly known, "flower" would not have been Aryel's favorite word to hear about herself. Back home she had been the princess, the desert flower, and a dozen other titles courtiers and delegates would use in hopes of winning her favor. It hadn't taken long for her to get sick of the compliments and simpering. Still, she didn't really resent him for making an honest mistake. "Thank you." she said with a polite smile (Diplomacy training was good for something, at least), then listened as he explained where he had come from. "We didn't get have many mountains in my home, although we certainly had our fair share of canyons and cliffs." She looked away into the trees, watching a doe walk by some distance from them. Otherwise, they were alone. "So what brought you down from the mountains? Adventure? Safety? Politics?"

[nala]

"I guess you could say a little bit of all three." Pilate shifted his weight to the left following her gaze to a doe in the distance. The stallion always wondered why the homeland seemed so lonely. In his colt-hood, his home had been crawling with life. Granted everyone was related in one way or another, it still seemed so lonely to be a rouge. "My family no longer reigns over the mountains." He sighed, casting his warm brown gaze back to her. "Age got most of them. And the rest scattered gleefully. We weren't always the closest." He smiled at the thought of the actual closeness they actually shared. They didn't all like each other, but hardly ever was one seen without the other six or so tagging along.

Pilate raised his head proudly. "Politically you could say I'd like to continue my father's line. He was quite noble in his day along with his partner, my sort of uncle, Annas." Pilate had heard of a great power rising in the south. The young buck was quite sure he could make an alliance. "I'm actually searching for partners to join me in my quest of homage." He eyed her, trying to read her thoughts as he began to propose the question he'd proposed so many times before.