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Zandora tried to keep her focus on the world around her, the world of shifting seasons and life, but with silence came thoughts. She could feel herself slip into her memories, the door to hell always stood wide open beckoning for her return. She could hear the rhythmic pounding of her soiled and cold heart, beating a melody of disaster. Zandora remembered the day, oh the day that turned everything into 'before the day, or after the day.' It was silly to think that she used to be a mare loved by all, a mare worthy of title, a mare without a single thread of disease within a single cord of her bones. Indeedly humorous. The Zandora she had become was the result of buried layers of tragedy and pain, her heart calloused by the very disease of deceit that she had fought so hard to evade only years ago. Her eyes of deep violet and lavender reflected the bitter flames that bursted within her memories, the sorrow and misery becoming much to real. Just before she caved in on herself, her eyes that had been pinched closed snapped open and the dark eerie world around her welcomed Zandora back from her trip of torture. Her skin crawled with the feeling of another close by, Zandora was good at listening and observing, traits she had learned with her years of being invisible to the existence of equines.

Her eyes sought the source of -desired- disruption, she had been lingering within these hills isolated for a long time. Thinking of contact with another equine seemed strange and foreign. Although she had only felt the presence of another being, for all she knew she was facing a deer who had stumbled off path. Her ears flicked forwards and backwards eagerly and intensely seeking out the presence that enveloped her. Turning her head she caught sight of a fellow lingerer, her mind instantly analyzing the brute that stood before her. He looked like a deer caught in headlights, as if whom he was looking at was to be his death, an assumption that was not far off. He had a body that looked thin, muscled yes, but he looked rather lanky. A appendage of the mightiest of all cats hung low by cloven white hooves. His horn was carved art, twisted and knotted with a beautiful stone chiseled deeply it's cage of black. The young stallion's next move was brave, and to the mare that had only experienced such things before the day she snorted and rejected such a greeting. "Such physical interaction is unneeded, I prefer greeting of the oral type." Zandora said with deep silky words that held her despicable attitude. She tossed her lilac ribbons and spoke again "Do inform me, what is your name?" She asked with an arch of her evil brow.
Tag: @[Ashamin]
OCC: I'm sorry that this got so dark and that she's rude :.(
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