.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
03-13-2013, 07:50 PM
She was alive.
The near-two year old scoffed as she hid in the shadows watching horses stand up dripping in blood from battle. Demetrie was a spy, but she had recently become deeply obsessed with new information. With a freshened vigor, and a long stride, she loped into the the Foothills. The rolling foothills were given green hair that tickled her hocks and sprung her back up every step. The wind whipping back her mid-length mane throughout the subtle roll. With not tiring, she could breathe slowly and that oxygen would be enough. Her horns had grown rather proud the last few weeks, and every day she felt a bit more mature on the inside. Her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, but flickered open wearily as the stench of the sun baking bloodied pools grew stronger. Her deep cyan orbs wearily flicked back and forth as she started slowing her pace. Trotting.
Her brisk trot carried her ivory frame into the middle of the battle field. Proud and strong. She seemed to hold her head higher, her feet rose higher, her chest was pumped out, and her nostrils were flared. With a subtle ease, her legs quivered to a stop and her chest flew into the air. Her fores thrashing and blurring as every swipe from them seemed faster than the one before.
In an instant, her front hooves slammed against the grass creating a muffled bang sound. Her nostrils quivered as a low bugle waited for a moment in her pipes before running through the air. A murky neigh with cracks added in. It seemed to call for the members of the Hiils. Certainly, they'd be drawn to the white mare. She was hard to miss against the green, red, and brown that now dotted the land around her. Blue horn and blaze bright and pure as ever.
Demetrie was a unique thing. She was a spy, and not the traditional type. Being so young, mares were drawn to her as motherly instincts came out, but this fire ball was no longer the foal she use to be. Within weeks she had grown quite well. Her muscles had grown rapidly to make her strong for most gals her age. She had not been sent from Ignita here to spy, but she was drawn by the stenches of war, loss, and gain. The horses here in Helovia were greedy. They fought for land instead of joining. They created groups for killing. This, she grew fond of quite quickly.
OOC: This is not tagged with the Spy tag, but since she wasn't sent, it wont be. She loves war and battle, and may consider joining in on the foothills in the future.
The near-two year old scoffed as she hid in the shadows watching horses stand up dripping in blood from battle. Demetrie was a spy, but she had recently become deeply obsessed with new information. With a freshened vigor, and a long stride, she loped into the the Foothills. The rolling foothills were given green hair that tickled her hocks and sprung her back up every step. The wind whipping back her mid-length mane throughout the subtle roll. With not tiring, she could breathe slowly and that oxygen would be enough. Her horns had grown rather proud the last few weeks, and every day she felt a bit more mature on the inside. Her eyes fluttering closed for a moment, but flickered open wearily as the stench of the sun baking bloodied pools grew stronger. Her deep cyan orbs wearily flicked back and forth as she started slowing her pace. Trotting.
Her brisk trot carried her ivory frame into the middle of the battle field. Proud and strong. She seemed to hold her head higher, her feet rose higher, her chest was pumped out, and her nostrils were flared. With a subtle ease, her legs quivered to a stop and her chest flew into the air. Her fores thrashing and blurring as every swipe from them seemed faster than the one before.
In an instant, her front hooves slammed against the grass creating a muffled bang sound. Her nostrils quivered as a low bugle waited for a moment in her pipes before running through the air. A murky neigh with cracks added in. It seemed to call for the members of the Hiils. Certainly, they'd be drawn to the white mare. She was hard to miss against the green, red, and brown that now dotted the land around her. Blue horn and blaze bright and pure as ever.
Demetrie was a unique thing. She was a spy, and not the traditional type. Being so young, mares were drawn to her as motherly instincts came out, but this fire ball was no longer the foal she use to be. Within weeks she had grown quite well. Her muscles had grown rapidly to make her strong for most gals her age. She had not been sent from Ignita here to spy, but she was drawn by the stenches of war, loss, and gain. The horses here in Helovia were greedy. They fought for land instead of joining. They created groups for killing. This, she grew fond of quite quickly.
OOC: This is not tagged with the Spy tag, but since she wasn't sent, it wont be. She loves war and battle, and may consider joining in on the foothills in the future.
