the Rift


[PRIVATE] L'homme à femmes

Circe Posts: 101
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 5 Buff: NOVICE
M.E.
#1

The harsh sun above proved to warm the river that cleaved the land in two, nestled as it was in the lush, sun-gold meadow. Waves splashed against the sides of the shadowmere as she waded chest deep in the crystalline waters; it was the swift current that fluttered far below the surface, near her hooves and fetlocks, which proved to send relief to the exhausted, feverish body—for it was only at this depth that the sun seemed to be unable to penetrate. Circe paced the length of the river, submerging her tail, dunking her head every few minutes, feeling the tepid droplets trickle through her mane, down the sides of her neck and the tips of her hair.

The falling sun cast shadows of marigold and amber across the burning land; only the fingertips of sunlight could be discerned over the tops of the tree-line, quickly fading before the coming relief of nightfall. Circe could catch the scent of her sons nearby, unseen though they were only yards away. She knew she should go to them—to feed them if they were hungry, to lay them down to sleep and keep her vigilant eye on their willful little souls. Yet the river felt too nice to her, especially the cool undercurrent that soothed the heat of the summer, the surface turbulence that washed the irritating dust and sand from her body. She trotted through the water, her gait slow and sluggish against the weight of the water; she reveled in the work of her body, the strain of movement against the current of the river. It was a power of nature, a force of will, and she did pit herself against it—for she was restless in the marrow of her bones.

Did the life of a mother bore the shadowmere? The honest answer was no; her sons proved to laden her plate with more than their share of mishaps and trials of their own, keeping their mother on her toes at all times of the day in order to intercept their possible miscreant ways. Miscreant; Circe knew the word shouldn’t be spoken with an affectionate connotation, yet here she was, doting on the little bastards that had broken her body on the way out. Yet even they couldn’t scratch the itch for a fight, the need to be used as a warrior, the craving for battle that swam in Circe’s blood. Her muscles ached to be used, and there was no reason to use them; with Archibald gone there was no one with which to spar and keep an edge to her blade, and it was frustrating.

The shadowmere finally brought herself out of the rushing current of the river, her body soaked to the skin, her coat clinging to every muscle of her form, every curve of her body. She shook herself once, her tail weaving in the air to knock the rivulets of water from her ivory plume; she twisted around herself to correct a particularly irksome ruffle that had appeared in her coat. The gentle breeze that wafted over the gold-tipped flora now kissed Circe’s body, and the normally fiery winds proved to soothe her further. If only it could ease the fever of her agitated passion—but that was another worry for another time.


@[Oliver]





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Oliver Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#2
I sailed on the currents in the beautiful sky. The winds pushing my black banners backwards, all while furiously tangling it. The same wind that messed my hair up also ran over my feathers, but this was in a good way. I could stay aloft if I rode the wind. My golden hooves dangling under me, swaying back and forth every so often. It was hard to believe these hooves had just cut and bruised a random horse.

That random horse became my prisoner.

I had fought with him, and in the end I came out the better fighter. I accomplished this all as I gave a huge and fat crimson cut on his scarless body. A pristine coat he once had vanished when I marked it with something that would make him remember me. He had a cream mane and body, with various markings all over. I just had to damage his bode in someway. Of course, after the fight I left Helovia for a short period of time. I had given him his freedom and took a break from this much demanding place.

During my time away, I managed to 'play with' a beautiful mare, resulting in her being pregnant. I liked ladies, and I was well at suiting their needs. Right this moment, I craved the body of a mare under me. I wanted her to carry my weight on her back. However, I did not want to deal with the child that is the result if this action commonly known as mating. This moment I was not lusty for blood, I wanted a mare.

My pupiless orbs glance down to see a mare. Almost instinctively I descend from the air landing in front of her. The ground shakes as it takes my massive body. I fold my wings and arch my neck. I look bigger as I try to flex my muscles. I know I look impressive, for I've seen some mares' reaction.

Of course there is the less beautiful (to all, but the awkward few that can't stop staring) part to it all. My private part is dangling in-between my legs. It is awkward, but I do not care. "You look beautiful, Miss. Might there be a name I should call you, or will you let me guess?" My harsh tones smoothing out for the second sentence. My tone was calm and not even flirty yet, but it was obvious I was already flirting.

Now that I was up close to the mare, I looked at her. She is of a dark color. Her body wet from the dip in the river she most likely took. She was horned and overall beautiful. I wanted her, I needed her. Now, I had to have her. Nothing would stand in my way now.

[nothing but archeeballlld! :D This sucked. Sorry.]

Circe Posts: 101
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 5 Buff: NOVICE
M.E.
#3

The shadowmere had spied the shadow of the Pegasus as he flew above, for he was a large specimen to behold. Regardless, Circe did not move from her place or run from the obscurity of his bulk—the warrior mare tensed, her ivory plume twitching behind her in anticipation, her breath held for a fraction of a second as she assessed the situation. She watched the Pegasus as a hellcat might watch the hawk that circled her kits, waiting to see if it considered striking her children, anticipating his dive and silently daring him into action. The restlessness in her blood propelled such thoughts to her brain; she half wished him to descend, to challenge her, so that she could unleash her furious ire against him in an attempt to soothe her fiery blood.

Most miraculously, the male did descend—and he angled himself so that he inclined near her as he fell from the sky. As a matter of absolute fact, he landed right in front of her, his stance full of the pride that bubbled in his chest. It was a large chest indeed; the stallion was a hefty sort, towering over the shadowmere even without the feathery mass of his wings invading the air around them. Circe eyed him with a suspicious glare; her ear cocked backwards, listening for the subtle rustle of her sons and any other sign of another unwanted intruder who might be interested in her kin. She detected none; it seemed today’s invasions were solely meant for her entertainment.

The shadowmere waited for him to speak—for him to bring reason to his sudden invasive actions. Her body refused to release its tension; her irises showed no fear. He was large, yes—but Circe knew how to handle large. It wasn’t until he called her beautiful that the shadowmere felt some sort of stirring of unease, for she was quite unprepared for it. Circe did not associate with the business of attractiveness – she was made of graver stuff than that—yet even so, she couldn’t help the sudden flare of flattery that rose in her breast. She lifted her head, chin set, even more suspicious of this man than she had been before; what reason did he have to call her beautiful? “I will let you guess, she responded, “after you tell me why you’re here.” Where his voice had been warm and cordial, hers was nothing but dry flint, ready to pounce and strike the dry shrub and have it burst into flame—in short, she would be a challenge



@[Oliver]





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Oliver Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#4
“I will let you guess,” she said. This is my opportunity. Firstly, is her name Rosa or even Rose? Did it start with an 'R'? Oh, heavens... How many names are there? Probably an infinite amount. That is what stinks. I may never actually know her name. “after you tell me why you’re here.” The fuck? She can't do that! I demand a refund, because there are so many names, that I couldn't even say a quarter of them. "I've decided a little grass would be nice. Why are you here, M'lady?" My voice is rough and harsh as I speak. Does she likes that?

I couldn't help, but want to steal her and keep her as mine. Would that be wrong? It'd be simple to steal her from her home and keep her as mine. Unfortunately, I don't think she'd necessarily like that. Perhaps, if I steal her, I could keep her, but not be tooooo strict? Could I have her for one night, at least? "You don't care to know who I am?" My voice is somewhat smoother, and a smudge deeper now. Will she dig it?

This mare's dark body is beautiful. It's colored like that of a shadow's body. Her banners are glisten in my eyes. She's an alluring mare. How do I get her to be mine? Stealing may not be the best. I could win her heart. That was also hard. Many horses just think 'oh, go seduce a lady. She'll be yours foreeeveerrrrr.' It wasn't that damn easy. Some mares are so unavailable, despite them being single. Rasta, for example, is beautiful. Sadly, it's like any type of body contact with her and she freaks out.

Some horses are just strange like that, I guess.

Circe Posts: 101
Deceased
Mare :: Unicorn :: 16hh :: 5 Buff: NOVICE
M.E.
#5

Circe’s gaze was level and blank as the brute professed to land in this place for the simple sake of nourishment. It was an innocent, believable motive for coming here—the land was indeed a very good spot to sate one’s festering appetite—but the shadowmere didn’t leave off with her suspicion so easily. For one thing, if the brute was truly as hungry as he said he was, he would not be stopping to speak with the dark, agitated mare. His interest in her affairs seemed….quite intense for such a stranger; his gaze very rarely left her, and there was a glint in his eye that piqued the shadowmere’s attention.

Despite this, she eased some, her head rising from its defensive position, her neck and shoulders relaxing from their poised state. She gave nothing away with her eyes of course—still the skeptic’s stare gazed from her lids—but her ears rolled forward in a gesture of her growing interest. He wasn’t here for immediate attack—and yet, she was clearly his target, all the same. Who sent him? He didn’t smell so much of heat and burning sands, so she figured he was not a member of the winged herd of the Throat. Still, that didn’t mean he wasn’t sent here on someone else’s agenda.

* "You don't care to know who I am?"*

“I happen to care very much,” she replied, and she began to pace before him, walking slowly one way, then turning and stalking once again before him, her tail weaving and brushing over the grasses like a powerful, silent snake stalking its skittering prey. “I live here, and you are a stranger to me and my kin. I want to know why you’re here, seeking my presence, and if you are dangerous to me.” It was stated flatly, with no hint of playfulness hidden in the folds of her speech; the game fell flat at Circe’s feet. “Where do you come from?” she asked—or demanded, more like. Her eyes once again quickly, shamelessly, traveled over the stallion’s body, assessing it, spying a rather harrowing piece of anatomy swinging about his loins before shoving the image out of her mind and ignoring it entirely. That was a “situation” she had no association with.


@[Oliver]





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