Stranger than your sympathy [open]

[penguin]

Silence. That was the first word that came to his mind as he gazed at the lands around him. Green and damp, this was the only place Fraser had ever been able to call home. But he'd never felt at peace here. He'd grown up in a small isolated section and it wasn't until today that he had finally plucked up the courage to see the more lived in areas, hoping to join a herd. He was afraid but he put on a brave face. He didn't want to show his insecurities. The stag had never managed to grow accustomed to the fear in the eyes of smaller equines, especially mares, as he walked by. He was heavily built, his muscles well toned. His height wasn't as tall as some, but it was still apparently enough to intimidate. It was difficult to pinpoint just one breed with him. He had qualities and characteristics of many, which also put some horses off.

Sighing softly, the surprisingly nimble stallion picked his way across the mossy ground. He didn't stand out too much from his surroundings, especially with the small green stains on him. It had been a while since he'd found a water source big enough to chuck himself into. His body was getting quite filthy. Not that he'd had much socialisation of late, or seen his appearance. Fraser didn't care much, but now that he faced the prospect of being in a herd, he knew he would have to brush up. Finding a slight incline, the bay roan closed his eyes, concealing the brown iris and pupil. Taking a calming breath the gent inhaled and released a travelling neigh. His forelegs lifted off of the ground as his voice projected in all directions. Landing, his tail flicked his sides anxiously. This was it. Now he could start his new journey, build a new reputation (not that he deserved the one he'd gotten before). Now his real history could being.

[Hud]

Armand, minding his own business as he swam slowly through one of Bastein's larger bogs, was not prepared for the sound he heard. It threw the old stallion for a loop, his faded blue eyes blinking powerfully. The hiss of a gator? Normal. The call of a heron? Ordinary. The bellowing neigh of a coldblood? Unheard of! The king's ears fell back on his head as he found his footing toward the edge of the muddy water, pulling himself up among the moss and roots covering the area where land met water. As he lifted himself to stand, his back was green with the stuff, promising to camouflage him from the new brute.

Armand's steps were careful and calculated as he neared the sound's origin. There was no telling who the stranger was, only that it was a big male. Armand had heard the sounds of challenging males before, and yet he hadn't had the issue for years. No one wanted the bayou - it was unsightly to most. It was just as dangerous for newcomers as the desert and just as deadly as the tundra. Most males went for the milder conditions of the plains or the woods... None but natives deserved the extreme environments, according to Armand. This newcomer was no native.

Catching sight of the roan beast, Armand did not conceal himself for long. No sense hiding, though he was perfectly suited for it. The old stallion approached the other, whistling a slow, quiet tune from his dark lips. "Ain't no sense'n callin' duh gatuhs to yuh, son. Dey'll find yuh fine on dey own..." Armand greeted him, no smile crossing his lips...

[penguin]

The male waited impatiently for a response, ever fibre in his body starting to feel his doubting anxiety. Fraser was not yet knowledgeable of this land. Where he lives, though still a branch of this region, had many more tracks above the swamps. This part of the land was lower ground and he was less confident. It didn't help that the scents around him were not familiar to him. Maybe he should have just stayed away... But no. He couldn't go back now. He had nothing to return to any more. It would also be cowardly, not necessarily in the eyes of others but certainly by his own. Shaking his head, the stallion built up a façade of confidence. Despite his fairly young age, he'd learnt to do this well. His expression and body language did not emit cockiness however, he was careful about that. It would reflect negatively on his character to seem too sure of himself and he definitely did not want to offend whoever he might greet.

The sound of muffled hoof beats connected with his ears, and he looked round with a bit of excitement in his eyes. The creature was heading towards him, had heard him and decided to come. It had been a long time since he'd been approached and he cherished the moment, savouring how it felt. Spotting an approaching stallion, Fraser turned himself. His head lowered slightly in respect as the older male walked up to him. His back was painted green, most likely from a recent swim, and suddenly Fraser didn't feel so bad about the few mossy splashes on his own coat. The words the inhabitant said were neither friendly nor cold. The accent on the dialect intrigued Fraser, for he had not heard someone with such a strong tone before. "Alligators can be outrun if you know how to escape." Fraser spoke grimly, experienced on the matter. The stallion was always alert for the crocodiles that lived in these regions, having seen one too many deaths by their vicious jaws. "My name is Fraser, Sir. I seek place in the herd here, if there is room for one more that is." he added the latter clause hastily not wanting to seem demanding. He sincerely wanted to be part of a herd, part of a family.

[Hud]

The stallion continued chewing his moss as he listened to the stranger's answers. As gators were mentioned, Armand turned his head and spat the remains of the clod onto a nearby shrub, turning back to Fraser with a toothy grin. His teeth were no pearls to look at, either. With a high chortle, Armand brought himself some joy imagining this northerner "outrunning" a gator... Armand knew stomping was a dying art, but to this extent? His brother Rembrandt and he had been master stompers in their day, though the old stallion was a bit too brittle nowadays to do as good a job as he used to. He still had enough sense to recognize that running from a gator was no display of strength or courage, both valued abilities in Bastein. "Boooooy you must not be from aroun' he-yuh, Monsieur Fraser! Dat ain't no kinda way'ta git a gatuh off yuh back!" Armand shook his neck, his mossy mane flinging the foliage here and there.

Finishing his chortle, the stallion took a few steps closer, considering the other horse's request for a place in his herd. In truth he was exactly what Armand had been looking for, even if he did need to teach him a thing or two about "escaping".

"Nah, you look like a good type, doh. Respectful'a da swamp.Y'all kin stey, if ya like." Armand turned to stand beside the larger, younger stallion. Gesturing toward the more inland Bastein area, the king of the swamp invited him in. "Ya go down deepuh in, and you'll find mah son Devereaux... He kin show ya how to take care uv a gatuh!" Armand laughed again.

[penguin]

The words that Fraser spoke seemed to amuse this stallion for reasons he couldn't fathom. The smile that formed was not exactly pleasant, but Fraser didn't care. Appearances were only skin deep after all. He was wise enough not to take everything at face value. "There is a small branch off of this region, and that is where I grew up. There are crocs are of smaller size there. They can't chase after you if you run in a zigzag, so they give up the chase. Not that I let myself get into such a situation." he shrugged absent mindedly. It was the best advice his mother could give him when it came to the green predators and it worked quite well. Crocodiles and alligators, their bodies couldn't move side to side that quickly. Fraser, on the other hand, was nimble and athletic enough to be able to do this and thus get away. His words were not questioning though. For this stallion to live in this region he would have experience in dealing with the gators and no doubt knew best.

The bay roan kept still as the other approached, his ears flicking a little in the hope that he would satisfy whatever this stallion was looking for in a new herd member. A wave of relief flooded him as permission was granted. Inclining his head, gratitude visible in his body language, the gent spoke once more. "Thank you, Sir." his words as courteous as ever, now realising that this stag was most definitely the ruler of these lands. "I appreciate that" was all he said to the latter statement, a small chuckle of his own forming, amused that his lack of experience with these larger alligators entertained the older male so. Nickering softly as a goodbye, the young lad picked up his feet and moved lithely in the direction Armand had indicated. He chose his path carefully, his keen eyes seeking the more solid, even ground to prevent accident. From his movements it was clear he'd lived in a similar environment, and now he could expand his survival skills.

[Hud]

Armand's laugh died down a bit as he smiled at the new arrival and nodded his head as the stallion walked by. The king knew things worked differently in other territories, and apparently different customs had developed on the edges of his own. Proud of his strong Basteinian roots, Armand lived a different lifestyle based on old customs. Escaping from an angry alligator was a sign of cowardice... If an able stallion found himself encountering a provoked alligator, it was his duty to take care of the rogue beast so that it did not pose a threat to his family. Generally the reptiles kept to themselves, considering an equine too large for prey. The bog housed no crocodiles, the only reptile commonly large enough to hunt and claim the life of a horse in its right mind. Still, 80-year-old 14-footer gators were not uncommon and with age came a loss of wisdom in the beasts. Armand hoped this Fraser would learn their ways and care for the small herd just as he and Devereaux did.

OOC: Probably a good place to stop. :]