01-11-2012, 01:11 PM
The horse started going crazy as Sebastian backed away. Snorting, stamping its massive hooves, whinnying loudly, flinging its head around and looking as though it might charge and flatten him at any moment. Thankfully, some stupidly brave wolf emerged from a ruined house, still clad in his psychedelic cloak, and spoke some foreign language as he single-handedly subdued the crazed horse with little apparent effort.
Sebastian stared, shocked at this man's bravery. Even if he did have a crazily coloured cloak that reminded Sebastian of the gypsies who had often passed through Sabini. His voice was guttural, made even more so by the harsh language; Russian, perhaps? Maybe German? Likely Russian. The male stood taller than Sebastian, as most did, with silvery fur and a silvery mane, both shot through with streaks of reddish-brown and black. Earrings, beads and feathers also decorated his head. Brown pants of an unfamiliar material and a white shirt. He made Sebastian feel underdressed; the Italian wore only a single small golden hoop earring and a pair of jeans so faded they were almost white.
Sebastian put his quiver away and returned the arrow to the quiver, looking somewhat uncertain. Still, he was interested. A handsome, muscular, well-dressed man who could take down a panicking horse with ease. What else could one ask for?
"Is your horse alright?" he asked awkwardly, taking a hesitant step forward. He was still a safe distance away, ready to bolt or shoot if the stranger proved to be violent.
Sebastian stared, shocked at this man's bravery. Even if he did have a crazily coloured cloak that reminded Sebastian of the gypsies who had often passed through Sabini. His voice was guttural, made even more so by the harsh language; Russian, perhaps? Maybe German? Likely Russian. The male stood taller than Sebastian, as most did, with silvery fur and a silvery mane, both shot through with streaks of reddish-brown and black. Earrings, beads and feathers also decorated his head. Brown pants of an unfamiliar material and a white shirt. He made Sebastian feel underdressed; the Italian wore only a single small golden hoop earring and a pair of jeans so faded they were almost white.
Sebastian put his quiver away and returned the arrow to the quiver, looking somewhat uncertain. Still, he was interested. A handsome, muscular, well-dressed man who could take down a panicking horse with ease. What else could one ask for?
"Is your horse alright?" he asked awkwardly, taking a hesitant step forward. He was still a safe distance away, ready to bolt or shoot if the stranger proved to be violent.