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12-09-2012, 07:57 PM
 Hmmm. It was twilight; the sun was in the midst of setting, casting red-gold rays shooting across the mountain tops, skimming against the clear surface of the never-frozen lake; somewhere southward a flock of crows cried madly with lust, surely gathering around some poor mound of a dead beast that had been unfortunate in their travels. A vague worry settled itself in the back of Sin's mind; a sense of protective obsession, wondering dimly if, perhaps, the crows had found the dainty little form of Farai? Even as he thought it, however, Sin registered the surrounding scent of the filly, and also remembered that she was safe within the walled valley. It would be most unusual for the darling little thing to be in peril in this safe winter meadow. Instead, Sin's full attention was right in front of him-- or rather, above him slightly, as he gazed at the topmost boughs of a tree. His eyes were glazed over and wide as great, radiant pearls-- a trait that was commonly associated with his burning passion of philosophy-- and he stood perfectly still in the shadow of the flimsy tree. Sometimes he obsessed himself with natural occurrences (what was lightning made out of? Why did acorns wear tiny hats?) and sometimes his passions were directed toward social phenomenon (why did other horses steal each other so often? Why not just knock and ask each other kindly to play?) but this time, Sin was rather enthralled with a rather worthless, yet nonetheless interesting inquiry. I wonder...What would happen if I get into a tree? It would seem a silly question to ask, but to one such as Sin, the concept was terribly exciting. What did the view look like from the top of a tree? Did the air smell different? How come horses didn't attempt to climb trees all the time? Has there ever been a horse in a tree? And if he attempted it himself, would he be the first? Would he get indigestion? Sin was lost so deeply in his thoughts that he reared up, quite unconsciously, and extended one of his fore-hooves upwards, scraping the bark with his cloven hoof and lashing his tail in painful temptation. Once upon a time, Sin's dearest ambition was to figure out how wings imbued the power of flight. Now, all he wanted was to get his dappled ass into a tree. (OOC: Moste Randome Threade Ever. GO)  |
