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The sun warmed sands provided a welcome relief to the beautiful monotony of her new misty home. It was not that her Edge of the World wasn't aesthetically pleasing - it was easily one of the most lovely realms that she had ever entered - but the dame was bred and born in the sandy dunes of Uumalah. She was a Sahara rose, her soft petals and prickly thorns blossomed only in the unrelenting heat of the sun.
The desert was in her bones. It was in her blood.
Her hooves left half-crescents in the sand as she walked, the ocean waves lapping at the shore to her right and odd piles of coconuts to her left. Despite the serenity of her surroundings, the blushed mare felt anything but serene; peace was a luxury she would never enjoy. She was constantly alert, forever keenly aware of her surroundings and the consequences of her actions. As her ears swiveled about, Orithia noted the scent of another equine floating upon the salt-spattered breeze. Breathing deeper, the pale viper registered the identifying musk of a male and turned her flat pastel gaze to her left.
There was someone there, peeking out from the shadows and toward her remarkably noticeable form. She felt a twinge of rage alight within her chest at the thought of a stallion looking at her, of a male's eyes traversing the soft curves of femininity that she had been saddled with. Orithia had buried her entire being in the soft, welcoming embrace of rage, and now it seemed that disgust had began to blossom.
"Show your godforsaken face, stranger, before I tear it from your skull."
The desert was in her bones. It was in her blood.
Her hooves left half-crescents in the sand as she walked, the ocean waves lapping at the shore to her right and odd piles of coconuts to her left. Despite the serenity of her surroundings, the blushed mare felt anything but serene; peace was a luxury she would never enjoy. She was constantly alert, forever keenly aware of her surroundings and the consequences of her actions. As her ears swiveled about, Orithia noted the scent of another equine floating upon the salt-spattered breeze. Breathing deeper, the pale viper registered the identifying musk of a male and turned her flat pastel gaze to her left.
There was someone there, peeking out from the shadows and toward her remarkably noticeable form. She felt a twinge of rage alight within her chest at the thought of a stallion looking at her, of a male's eyes traversing the soft curves of femininity that she had been saddled with. Orithia had buried her entire being in the soft, welcoming embrace of rage, and now it seemed that disgust had began to blossom.
"Show your godforsaken face, stranger, before I tear it from your skull."
jfc ori you cant just rip people's faces off
![[Image: ypCJIiV.png]](http://i.imgur.com/ypCJIiV.png)
Honestly, kick her ass at any time. Seriously.
Any and all aggressive and non-aggressive contact permitted.
Please no permanent injury or death. We'll get to that part at some point.
xoxo
