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10-09-2012, 09:36 AM
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Striking mights and maybes even more A useless thing called life It's a biting cold again He was a ghost. A pale wraith in the moonlight, a shadow of the past - Helovia considered him diminished, cast aside, nothing now that he roamed the Wilds like a vengeful spirit. But he was not subdued. His presence was still powerful, an aura rippling out from the blurred edges of his body, a bond between stallion and earth, traveling through the frost upon both ground and hooves. White breaths smoked into the night from dark nostrils, the thud of his steps so soft, swallowed by the darkness. Mauja was a friend of forests despite the way he stood out like a sore thumb, knew how to navigate them with ease - how to step silently. And this particular forest, the crossroads of paths and futures, he knew very well. Perhaps not as well as he had known - still knew - the Edge, but he had spent a lot of time here. Blue eyes, silver in the darkness, blinked, his presence drawn to a gathering. They were centered around a weeping willow yet to shed all of its browned leaves, two hornless stallions patched black and white. One was a stranger, the other - the Pegasus - he knew, though some part of him wished he didn't. Mauja slapped his tail against his hocks and stifled a sigh in the darkness, padding up to them in no real hurry. Besides, he did not want to startle anyone in the dark. Eerie-looking with his shimmering corona of light where the moon struck him and the silver shadow across his pupils, Mauja easily slid in between the two stallions as if his bulk weighed no more than a feather and was no wider than a blade. Under the boughs of the willow rested a mare, some shade of brown, muted by the monochrome light. Heavy ram horns, much like Aurelius's, adorned her head, and instead of being redundant and repeating their questions, Mauja merely tilted his pale head to the side, watching with gentle concern in both eyes and voice. "Good evening."  |
