Willow // DONE

Chestnut rabicano. She is a dull, pale chestnut who is beginning to grey. Her face and jaw are mottled with white and three of her legs are white up to the knee. Her mane and tail are flaxen with distinct greying. Her eyes are dark brown, to the point of looking black. Her expression is open, with large, friendly eyes. She stands at around 13.2hh, and is structured well, with a stout, strong body, slim legs and a bold, delicate head. Her entire body possesses a natural strength that, despite her small size, makes her agile and reasonably powerful. While not particularly beautiful or graceful, she possesses a certain bird-like charm that makes her attractive. click

Willow is very much a strong mare, both in body and will. While she is under no illusions that she is at a disadvantage due to her stature, she certainly won't allow herself to be taken advantage of because of it. She very much believes that she is equal to, if not better than, any other equine in the lands, and makes a point of proving this to anybody she comes across. As a result, she can make quite a negative first-impression to most, as her boldness can come across as rudeness or a bad attitude; she doesn't mean to seem this way, nor does she realize when she is doing it. Beyond her initial defensiveness, Willow is a kind-hearted, if slightly boisterous, mare. She likes being in the company of like-minded equines and has a great sense of humour with those she is familiar.

Willow sees herself as a maternal figure, and while others might dispute this fact on account of her attitude, she does her best to protect those in need. She has never been a mother, nor has she had much experience with foals - Willow is mostly barren, and it would take many attempts for her to ever conceive a foal.

Though she may not like to show it often, Willow does have a soft, silly side, and is happiest when she's cuddled against a loved-one or frolicking through long grasses. She only exposes this side around those she truly trusts, so as not to detract from her stubborn, stoic façade.

It was the hottest day of the year so far - not unpleasantly so, it was still relatively early into summer, and fine, wispy clouds still blocked most of the sun's heat. It was warm enough, however, to make a journey beyond the trees worthwhile, and Thames was enjoying being able to venture outside without bracing himself for frost and chilling winds. He ran; alternating between cantering and galloping through the sparse copse of trees, leaping over fallen boughs, all the while enjoying the warm air in his lungs and the pleasant heat on his dark pelt. Reaching the end of the pasture, he doubled back, jumping a toppled spruce, thin branches whipping at his belly as he did so. He was a running breed, as his parents and their parents before them were, and he liked to exercise this fact whenever possible. Lengthening his stride for a long galloping stretch, he thought back to his early years, confined to a paddock with his family. There was no room to run like this, and it was only when he freed himself that he began to see the benefits. His fitness and beauty were sources of great pride for the stallion, and as he slowed in preparation to stop, coat shining with sweat, he thought about how awful he must have looked as a younger stallion - round with hay and barely able to run the length of his pasture. He snorted, grinning to himself, and turned to walk toward a nearby stream, pulse beating visibly in his veins.

These lands were fairly dry at this time of year, but water settled in the lowest areas after rains, and Thames knew where one such stream still remained. His surroundings were harsh and unforgiving, towering mountains that cradled meadows and forests, rewards for those who braved the cliffs and rocky hills. Thames essentially lived here; it was isolated, but he had little need to interact with ordinary equines. They bored him, usually; the only thing they were good for was entertainment, and those kinds of toys got boring very quickly. A trio of stallions had tried to recruit him, lately, and he had sent them on a wild goose chase around the mountains until two of them returned to inform him that the third had fallen to his death on the loose rocks. He had laughed and sent them away with warnings to be more careful, next time. They hadn't returned, so he supposed they had understood the hints he was trying to send their way. It was a shame, really, he could have sent them off again, seen which one survived until the end. He snorted dismissively, he was happy being alone, for the time-being.

Reaching the shallow pool of water, Thames dropped his head to drink, tail whipping at the flies that settled on his haunches. Someday, he might consider settling for a herd, if any were ever organized. Hell, if he had a partner to do it with, he'd set-up his own herd. It was a venture he couldn't do alone; as much as he desired the attention of others, he wasn't skilled when it came to fair judgement or good leadership. Maybe someday, he thought casually, lifting his head from the water, content to stand in the gentle sun, for a little while.