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07-26-2012, 05:14 PM
R I C C I A R D O
The Sandman. In the sun drenched herbage stood the flame-kissed sir. The dull coat coordinated well with the plain yet brawny physique of the young stallion, whose daggers ached from the long journey. His orbs glowed the colour of the sands he derived from, his horn the same pale sorrel blend as his pelt. On the contrary to his simple appearence, the stallion possessed a mind worthy of a wise old Lord, knowledgeable, respectful and curious. Ricciardo was not one to undermine the wisdom he possessed at such a young age. With a twitch of his ears, a paw of a dagger and a shake of his handsome crown, Ricciardo began to pick his way through the foliage, in the hope of finding life. The wearied traveller had wandered far, wanting nothing more than a long rest. The desire of the sands and salt water tugged at his heart, for the sir was a true lover of the lands that he was descended from. Pain nagged him, for it was difficult for him to come to terms with the sudden re-location. I have no choice, needs must. Soon he paced quite gracefully downhill; the sorrel mass came across a figure below. His sand pools couldn't quite make out the exact appearence of the creature, all he knew was that it was a unicorn, much like himself. He gently nickered so as not to disturb anything that may be lurking within the frondescence, "You down there." With a whisp of his flaxened salt curled, thin tail, he slowly made his way down. A cautious approach was but expected to a stranger, his sensible mind understood the dangers only too well. "Talk." |
