How sweet, the stars

the Rift

[OPEN] How sweet, the stars

Roland Posts: 230

Aurora Basin Phantom atk: 7.5 | def: 10 | dam: 2.5

Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16 hh :: 8 yrs HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE

Glo

#13

10-13-2013, 01:54 PM

Racism was a terrible disease. It was a contagion that did not discriminate, contaminating both the soft spoken and iron fisted, the caring and the cruel. In many cases it curled, disregarded and inconspicuous, in the depths of the minds it had infected, yet unbidden it would seep through whatever good nature the creature contained to gently poison every word and every action; though in some, it was stretched across their person like a flag, bearing it across their hides as proudly as unicorns brandished their horns. And as of yet there appeared to be no cure.

Seiren’s words broke the icy silence with all the toxic allure of a serpent, falsely saccharine and dripping with a hidden warning. She obviously liked to toy with her victims before killing them, and Roland believed that objective was dancing at the forefront of her mind. A shiver went down his spine as he looked at her, expression carefully schooled into nonchalance even though his muscles were tensed beneath his hide. The moon cast a metallic glow across the mare’s dappled skin, a soft light distantly reminiscent of the sun in a way that he had previously found beautiful, but now was ominous.

Roland knew she was not to be trusted; why at any moment he might turn to admire the stars and find her knife in his back, but she held a unique potential for friendship that he found himself averse to letting go. Such was life in the Basin too, where the challenge of keeping his character in check was constant, and he rarely found the chance to speak what he truly thought. Like a seed coming into fruition, doubts were beginning to blossom in his mind, and as time dragged on beneath the cover of a wintry night it was beginning to frost over his goodwill.

Harmony would walk unscathed from their gathering on the cliff side, if Roland could prevent an altercation. He had seen too many fall victim to the Basin’s cruel ways. “No need to be sorry.” He dismissed the painted mare’s apology with a flick of his tail, careful to keep his voice clean of emotion or sympathy. It would be in her own best interest to leave, for he wasn’t sure what the silver mare might do if given the chance. Slowly, he tilted his head to the side, a minute gesture yet one that hid his eyes from Seiren’s view, and with this fleeting opportunity he cast Harmony what he hoped was a meaningful look. The warning went unspoken, for he was toeing a fine line; one that spanned between a tentative alliance with the dappled mare, and a curse upon his name for empathizing with the hornless.

(Sorry for the hold up, I’ve been running seriously low on muse)

Push your luck if it makes you a promise
that turns con men honest.

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