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06-08-2016, 12:42 PM
(This post was last modified: 06-08-2016, 06:17 PM by smitty.
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Hasovir
His throat was as parched as the Dorobo plains are during the dry season, or at least that’s what Hasovir was thinking. ‘Dorobo’ softly echoed in his cranium with each pounding step he took; dried hooves were slightly cracked and Hasovir’s expression read simply: unamused. He attempted to wet his maw with his cotton mouthed tongue and peered up at the blistering sun; everything seemed against Hasovir…at least to Hasovir. He furrowed his brow and slumped his globe back down towards the earth, allowing his substantial horns to weigh it down. The stallion’s pace held steady and his mind blank – aside from the distant words he would hear. It had been years since he last saw anyone from Dorobo or had it only been a few months? At any rate, Hasovir figured it would be for the best as he had nothing to say to anyone from there. ‘ANYONE.’ He repeated in his head, ‘ESPECIALLY Tembovu.’ At this thought Hasovir stretched his mahogany nape out and paused a moment to shake away the memories, the thoughts, the feelings. A sheet of dust emitted into the atmosphere, creating a beige cloud around his bodice and to him, these were the toxicities being left behind.
Many judgements have come and gone throughout Hasovir’s time of being exiled and at this rate he has been fighting a battle within himself to let go of the past. His disorderly mind will not allow this to happen easily. One day he defends his vehement acts of conquering, despite slaughtering too many without remorse; and the next day he repudiates that time in his life where the jealousy consumed him enough to push him towards the militant ways – succeeding in his acts but regretful of the shame he brought his family. The latter feeling is one that Hasovir can successfully stomp out, squash, pretend he doesn’t have those emotions. From time to time he can feel that repentance, although he is always unsure of what to do with it. A gathering of trees made way to the entrance of a forest, and he could smell the sweetness of water in the air. A solemn swing from his banner gently wafted pestering gnats away and that mean-hearted sun was rising higher into the stratosphere as Hasovir made his way to a discreet brook.
Nestled in between small prickled shrubs with light shade from a few adolescent oaks, the red chestnut brute dipped his rough maw into the water and rested there for a moment. Sapphire orbs gathered in his surroundings as the clear, refreshing liquid brought life into him. His stomach bellowed a low grumbling from the intake of water and so he lifted his jaw, allowing some water to drip sloppily back into the stream. The heat index was crawling to an unusually high temperature for the season and all was hushed. Hasovir assumed that any equine, unicorn, or peg was most likely hidden away until the cooler hours, which was acceptable to him as he had no intentions of making new acquaintances – maybe, forever. Twin pinnacles flickered at shifting branches when a gust of wind that was hotter than the sunlight bolstered through the small woods. Hasovir stepped into the brook and allowed his dried, dusty diamonds to return back to their sharp onyx color. His fetlocks ached, his hocks throbbed, and he realized he hadn’t had a decent meal in quite some time.
Pointy hips disrupted that lean physique of his, several ribs were noticeable whenever he moved, but the solitude from being banished offered a pleasant “I don’t care” for Hasovir. His appearance was never one to sway anyone, his coat dully shining from lack of nutrients. This was fine. As far as Hasovir was concerned he could do this for the rest of his life. Hadn’t he been doing it for most of his life anyways? He does not remember the last time he has heard his own voice and would rather like to keep it that way. ‘I probably sound terrible anyways.’ He abruptly thought, and cleared his throat subconsciously. In a world where no one is on your side, what’s the point in making connections? An elongated sigh escaped him and he planted himself wholly in the middle of the brook, his frogs feeling relieved amongst the pebbles below and Hasovir felt a curtain of exhaustion drape over his withers. Slowly, he closed his orbits and insentiently his head lowered another time, relaxing into the warmth of the day. Afternoon naps were hard to come by these days, but just when he felt himself landing into a dream he heard the loud snap of a branch.
Many judgements have come and gone throughout Hasovir’s time of being exiled and at this rate he has been fighting a battle within himself to let go of the past. His disorderly mind will not allow this to happen easily. One day he defends his vehement acts of conquering, despite slaughtering too many without remorse; and the next day he repudiates that time in his life where the jealousy consumed him enough to push him towards the militant ways – succeeding in his acts but regretful of the shame he brought his family. The latter feeling is one that Hasovir can successfully stomp out, squash, pretend he doesn’t have those emotions. From time to time he can feel that repentance, although he is always unsure of what to do with it. A gathering of trees made way to the entrance of a forest, and he could smell the sweetness of water in the air. A solemn swing from his banner gently wafted pestering gnats away and that mean-hearted sun was rising higher into the stratosphere as Hasovir made his way to a discreet brook.
Nestled in between small prickled shrubs with light shade from a few adolescent oaks, the red chestnut brute dipped his rough maw into the water and rested there for a moment. Sapphire orbs gathered in his surroundings as the clear, refreshing liquid brought life into him. His stomach bellowed a low grumbling from the intake of water and so he lifted his jaw, allowing some water to drip sloppily back into the stream. The heat index was crawling to an unusually high temperature for the season and all was hushed. Hasovir assumed that any equine, unicorn, or peg was most likely hidden away until the cooler hours, which was acceptable to him as he had no intentions of making new acquaintances – maybe, forever. Twin pinnacles flickered at shifting branches when a gust of wind that was hotter than the sunlight bolstered through the small woods. Hasovir stepped into the brook and allowed his dried, dusty diamonds to return back to their sharp onyx color. His fetlocks ached, his hocks throbbed, and he realized he hadn’t had a decent meal in quite some time.
Pointy hips disrupted that lean physique of his, several ribs were noticeable whenever he moved, but the solitude from being banished offered a pleasant “I don’t care” for Hasovir. His appearance was never one to sway anyone, his coat dully shining from lack of nutrients. This was fine. As far as Hasovir was concerned he could do this for the rest of his life. Hadn’t he been doing it for most of his life anyways? He does not remember the last time he has heard his own voice and would rather like to keep it that way. ‘I probably sound terrible anyways.’ He abruptly thought, and cleared his throat subconsciously. In a world where no one is on your side, what’s the point in making connections? An elongated sigh escaped him and he planted himself wholly in the middle of the brook, his frogs feeling relieved amongst the pebbles below and Hasovir felt a curtain of exhaustion drape over his withers. Slowly, he closed his orbits and insentiently his head lowered another time, relaxing into the warmth of the day. Afternoon naps were hard to come by these days, but just when he felt himself landing into a dream he heard the loud snap of a branch.
OOC: I think Hasovir will probably be best as an outcast, but throw whatever at him, Helovia ;)
Please tag Hasovir in all posts
