Goldmining, or something

Goldmining, or something

Ink Posts: 121

Hidden Account

Stallion :: Equine :: 16.2 hh :: 6 years

Blu

01-16-2013, 02:07 AM (This post was last modified: 01-16-2013, 02:42 AM by Blu.)

I arrive within the Heart in a scatter of bird wings as a flock of sparrows descends. I hop around the ground on small feet, wings a blur that scatters ink droplets as they move so fast. I peck experimentally at the ground, as I have seen birds do, but my beak flattens against the unyielding soil. Persistent I continue to stir through the towering field of grass and the edge of the Heart, but much to my disappointment there are no glittering gems ripe for the picking on this topsoil.

Frustrated and mostly just lazy, the sparrows dart back together, whirling in the air for a minute before re-emerging as a badger. I fall to the earth with silence, ink staining my seat in a ring of black. I ignore the obvious information this tells me, proceeding to wear into the ground with my able claws. Though onyx in color they may be, in substance they are not. The inken paws mash against the dirt, but again it does not stir.

Useless I think with a grim line spreading on my facade. Huffing in quiet defeat I disperse into a rain of darkness, pattering upon the soil with a soft hush. For a while I am content to remain this ruined pool of substance slowly leaking into the soil, but it will not assist me in my needs. Grunting inwardly I yank myself back into composure, the ink building me back into a horse of flesh and blood and whatever else I'm made of (misery and bitterness).

I slam a hoof against the topsoil. I find with some modicum of satisfaction that it finally begins to yield. Yet the indention is mild and I know I will be left to dig for a while. Resigning to my fate with a whistle of breathe passing my nose, I begin to paw with a pace against the heated dirt, eyes sharp for the glimmer of a gemstone being revealed.