.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
still a credit to your ruse, what a beautiful excuse
to never open up your eyes and see the things you lose
to never open up your eyes and see the things you lose
"HEY!"
Another of those gloriously rude awakenings. Mauja's blue eyes snapped open and he lunged to his feet, struggled for balance and breath—the cave roof was crashing in on his head as it always did when he woke, and the ground spun under his nose, a blur of lights. "W.A.R.! WHAT ARE YOU ALL WAITING FOR?"
What. The. Hell?
If anything, it sounded like a call to arms, for anarchy, rebellion here in the caves, to overthrow order and old herd-hierarchies and establish something new... Mauja's feet shuffled through the moss, and somehow he found himself standing upright, nares flared and head high. And spinning. But no army answered the lone call, no roar and ring of hooves upon the tunnels: nothing. No ragtag army. Blinking furiously to clear sleep from his mind Mauja pinned the source of the call with his eyes. It was a pegasus mare, and he recognized it as the electric bitch Irma had helped Crowley chase out of the Basin a long time ago. Well, fancy that. She was brazenly bold, and mad.
"We're waiting for you to shut the fuck up so we can think," he muttered under his breath. Had she had to pick this cavern of all to shriek in? His ears swiveled, heart still pumping furiously in defiance of his lingering cold, but he still caught the quieter words—well, she was certainly welcome to get out of here. He'd not stop her. Really.
Still, she had somewhat of a point, but being torn so rudely from sleep didn't put him in his best mood. With an annoyed flick of his tail he left the shadow of Irma's tree, sharing her resentment of the loud mare, and walked towards her at a leisurely pace. "I've learned that they're devils with a devil's endurance and drive to kill," he offered philosophically when he was close enough, a dry note in his voice. "You can be the bait this time, and we'll see what else we can learn." Because after all, he'd felt the sting of the wolf-child's teeth raking his hide more than once, the very breath choked out of him by Ophelia's bitch of a sister; the smallest cuts had closed into hairless black scars, too young to grow over, but the deeper still wore their dark-red itching scabs. Tail flicking idly at his hocks, Mauja flipped one ear back and rested a hind hoof on its tip—to provoke her when she yelled for action.
He wasn't opposed to reclaiming the surface.
He was just opposed to rude ex-trespassers waking him up with disorganized nonsense.
Another of those gloriously rude awakenings. Mauja's blue eyes snapped open and he lunged to his feet, struggled for balance and breath—the cave roof was crashing in on his head as it always did when he woke, and the ground spun under his nose, a blur of lights. "W.A.R.! WHAT ARE YOU ALL WAITING FOR?"
What. The. Hell?
If anything, it sounded like a call to arms, for anarchy, rebellion here in the caves, to overthrow order and old herd-hierarchies and establish something new... Mauja's feet shuffled through the moss, and somehow he found himself standing upright, nares flared and head high. And spinning. But no army answered the lone call, no roar and ring of hooves upon the tunnels: nothing. No ragtag army. Blinking furiously to clear sleep from his mind Mauja pinned the source of the call with his eyes. It was a pegasus mare, and he recognized it as the electric bitch Irma had helped Crowley chase out of the Basin a long time ago. Well, fancy that. She was brazenly bold, and mad.
"We're waiting for you to shut the fuck up so we can think," he muttered under his breath. Had she had to pick this cavern of all to shriek in? His ears swiveled, heart still pumping furiously in defiance of his lingering cold, but he still caught the quieter words—well, she was certainly welcome to get out of here. He'd not stop her. Really.
Still, she had somewhat of a point, but being torn so rudely from sleep didn't put him in his best mood. With an annoyed flick of his tail he left the shadow of Irma's tree, sharing her resentment of the loud mare, and walked towards her at a leisurely pace. "I've learned that they're devils with a devil's endurance and drive to kill," he offered philosophically when he was close enough, a dry note in his voice. "You can be the bait this time, and we'll see what else we can learn." Because after all, he'd felt the sting of the wolf-child's teeth raking his hide more than once, the very breath choked out of him by Ophelia's bitch of a sister; the smallest cuts had closed into hairless black scars, too young to grow over, but the deeper still wore their dark-red itching scabs. Tail flicking idly at his hocks, Mauja flipped one ear back and rested a hind hoof on its tip—to provoke her when she yelled for action.
He wasn't opposed to reclaiming the surface.
He was just opposed to rude ex-trespassers waking him up with disorganized nonsense.
