There'll be nothing left for me to yearn

the Rift

There'll be nothing left for me to yearn

Voodoo Posts: 231

Outcast atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 :: Eight :: Birdsong HP: 61.5 | Buff: NOVICE

Ouija :: Arctic Fox :: None Nevada

02-05-2014, 07:20 PM

Voodoo

tear me open pour me out,
inside there's things that scream and shout

The colt with a crystal blue gaze peers up at you, his eyes fixated on your face, but not connecting with your empty stare. We can feel hot breath rolling from your slightly agape mouth, red trimmed auds facing the young male. The colt almost immediately seems reassured by your appearance, beginning to approach your dark body before pausing a comfortable distance away. Don't trust this kid, he smells like an issue we beg, tapping on the innards of your skull with long, hot finger nails.

You take a nervous step backward, ears flicking back and nostrils gaping wide open as you draw in a deep breath. The young stud shakes his ivory stripped face, the curled mess of hair that hangs down his snout recoils back to its' original home. "I'm Orka-" the growing youngster continues on while you mentally slur his name time and time again. The repetition helps you remember both calling and face. "-where the hell I am?" Your crowned skull lowers slightly, left ear flicking forward to take in every sound the male makes. "Orka-" you repeat out loud one time before continuing, "I'm Voodoo, and this is Helovia."

The crisp wind howls through the Threshold, the foul stench of so many dead, decaying bodies floating like a powder tossed in the air. Red nares pinch tight at the faint scent; perhaps the colt cannot smell the lingering death, but your heightened scense allows such a thing. The thick strings that collectively create your tail snap to the right, lashing your gray flank. "It is not safe here Orka, if you follow me I can explain." An uncomfortable sting hangs off of the tip of your wetted tongue; the option of rejecting your request is there, but the yearling would be a fool to do so.

Nervously you shift on your dark legs, your rounded gray barrel heaving once with a deep breath. Your drive to leave increases by the second, the scent of rotten corpses lingering in your sinuses.

Tagged: @[Orka]
Ooc: Lol, you're fine hun!
Text here "Chat here." Voices here

i run but it stays right by my side

Table by Frostie

EVERYTHING YOU'RE RUNNING AWAY FROM
IS IN YOUR HEAD
[Image: 5389e9aca8b63]