dont you fill me up with your rules
Concrete.
The name was rather bland, but beneath it lurked an enigmatic personality. Concrete was a mongrel, by no means special, but he was handsome. The jealous and spiteful remarks were enough to convince the dappled stallion that his looks were enviable. But he was not arrogant. Oh no. If anything, he was polite, quite affable.
He stepped with confidence and grace. Concrete was a stallion sure, but not full, of himself. His large brown eyes glittered with anticipation as he entered this new land. The unfamiliarity and idea of exciting new prospects sent his blood racing, but other than that gleam, this exhilaration was not expressed outwardly. He was just another docile fledgling.
A whicker. His voice was low, somewhat sultry. It had a deep, resonating vibration to it. Concrete’s was the kind of voice that men coveted and that women lusted for. There was a soothing quality, which he often had found to his advantage. A vague smile crossed his lips.
He wanted company, a new friend in this new home.
CONCRETE |
Feedback: 