Silent. Not an utter sound emerged. Only the faint murmur of plodding hoofs on the soaked, marshland. The soft dripping of dew drops falling from the edges of the trees, the only memories of the rain before. The morning sun rose higher and higher, opening it's one eye to greet the new strangers and welcome old friends. It cowered highr and higher over the Sister Moon, until it held it's whole dominance over his home. Racist cowardly stepped forward, trying to meet the harsh and unforgiving stare of the xanthippe. he could not bring himself to look into the fathomless, deepless and obliterating eyes. sharply he wheeled around and looked down, not caring how idiotic he looked but only caring how he felt. The battered soul of the leviathan lay in tatters, shielding him from a minor attack by a water gun. His hoofs dangled aimlessly in a trance, poking and prodding at the lifeless soul of Mother Earth. Mucus membranes input diminutive, deliberate beats. He blatantly lifted his skull, greeting the mare courteously with a bow all his own. a sudden and short toss of his head cleared his vision of the abbohorring locks slithering like snakes over his head. He mingled about, pausing carefully between sentences. There they stood, alone, like two strangers at a party. "Eaglecrest? I am back..." His words were short and quick. Painfully cut to the quirk, blatantly to the point. A hint of sarcasm dangled lifelessy between the worm-holes of his words. His eyes glinted fiercly with pictures of amusement playing in a tiny, methodical tune. He was slightly disturbed by the words of the kona. Whining? He was not tempermentaly disturbed, nor was he whining just, well...commenting. Who was he kidding? It hurt him so... Than again it was all just a game. Life was a game. A ventriloquist. To meet and greet, how exciting. Racist loved to meet new equines, learning about them and what they loved...their scent creating an image in his mind. Racist Feed Me To The Dogs Let Them Prey On My Feeble Soul Affixed to Quiemadura