Ambrose
February 26th, 2012 at 9:06pm

A black silhouette stood out amongst the shrouding fog, statuesque as
he mutely gazed out across the boisterous ocean. Emerald tendrils of
grass swayed in the breeze at his feet, lightly caressing his thick
legs. His ebony encolure rippled as the wind tugged on it lightly,
sending the course piluses airborne. Below him the ocean thrashed
angrily, crashing into the rocky cliff side and roaring in its
timeless voice. He arched his thick neck, glancing down at the surging
waters many feet below - a sheer drop to the ocean. A single careless
misstep, and one would surely plummet to their death.

It was early in the morning. The sun had not yet fully risen in the
sky, it's igneous light painting a thin golden line along the horizon
and setting the lower portion of the sky ablaze with an array of
vibrant colors. Miniscule points of light remained in the darker
divisions of the sky, and the moon was concealed by a horde of thick,
gray clouds. Ambrose glanced out stoically across the restless tides,
deep in thought. This place was now his home, he thought as puffs of
smoke curled from his nostrils ceremoniously when he breathed.

Suddenly, the soft thud of hooves against grass came into earshot and
one of Ambrose's lobed ears shot backwards. He stepped away from the
ledge, then pivoted on his hind leg halfway, neck curved to the right
as he looked toward the enveloping haze. He snorted, silver eyes
searching for a figure in the mist. "Who's there." His deep, masculine
voice rumbled in his chest, the fog slightly amplifying his vocalism.
His leonine tail swatted the air behind his obsidian physique as he
awaited the stranger to reveal themselves.

---

Psyche
February 27th, 2012 at 9:00pm

She is here again, the fog enclosing her like a thick, wet net. His
scent still lingers here - the smell of fire. Hackles raised, the dark
mare slithers through the forest, hating the memories which bloomed
against her skull. She was weak that night - why couldn't she have
finished the job and left this wretched land? Ears pinned, the mare
charges forward recklessly, piercing the mist like a dark bullet. Her
hooves clack loudly against the stone as she parts from the forest,
leaving a careless trail of moss and pine needles.

From what vague glow she could discern from the sickly yellow of the
sky, the jackal heart can tell it is dawn. It reflects on her damp
coat on pastel oranges and pinks, its shininess uncharacteristic for
her thick winter pelt. Lean muscles ripple underneath the wooly coat,
unaccustomed to the hard surface which she traveled on, hooves
clattering noisily on the stone.

The ledge comes up fast and the dark mare scrambles sideways, sending
chips of rock raining down over the cliff. She continues forward,
angling herself further inland to avoid any incident. The calm sway of
the ocean lulls her into foolishness, but she is not fooled yet. Her
pace slows into an animated walk, head held high and ears alert for
any life. This is the unicorn herdland, if she understood correctly.
If she is lucky, there will be another Plague recruit. Her blood
buzzes with excitement. It grows before her eyes, this little project,
like a newborn and she cannot help but be proud of her efforts.

Her ears tilt forward when the dark silhouette of a black unicorn loom
up in the distance. A smile breaks on her face like a lovely disease,
alluring and dangerous. She stops far enough from him where the swaths
of mist keep her shrouded by mystery, but close enough to hear her
clear, feminine voice. "Alone, darling?"

---

Ambrose
February 27th, 2012 at 9:46pm

For a moment the black stallion wondered if the sound had merely been
a figment of his imagination. His mind was playing tricks on him, or
perhaps the sound had been the wanderings of a deer, or some other
feral animal. Snorting, he began to shift his weight, ready to turn
back around, when the feminine purr of mare's voice entered his ears.
Alone darling? Squinting, he searched for her figure in the blinding
haze, his gaze falling upon nothing but the obscuring fog that
encompassed him.

He wondered why some found it so amusing to play these games. Ambrose,
for one, found it rather tedious. Another snort rushed urgently from
his flared nostrils, before he parted his ragged lips, his deep, husky
voice calling out into the concealing vapor: "Reveal yourself, mare. I
don't wish to play such games." He stood still, now, silver eyes
actively surveying the area around him and dissecting the haze in
search of where she lingered.

---

Psyche
February 28th, 2012 at 7:11am

The stallion notices her, she smiles something marvelous and begins
circling him with careful footsteps. Her dark coat feels like a
prison, heavy with mist and water, tugging her towards the ground.
Pausing, the mare lifts her chin, listening to the deep, masculine
rumble of the stallion before her, so lovingly enveloped in the
shrouding in mist. "Tell me, kitten, do you like secrets?" The mare
asks, flicking her tail, mist displacing as the razor-sharp strands
slice through it. She laughs, thinking he'd like to join her cause. He
must.

And the black mare draws closer, amber eyes narrowed in concentration,
when she is sure that he can only see the faintest hint of darkness
through the vapor, she stops squarely, lowering her head like a
predator. "If I did that, there wouldn't be any fun, hm?" she
responds; Psyche finds him strange, but she sees he is going to follow
her little play.

---

Ambrose
March 3rd, 2012 at 4:47pm

She decided to remain hidden in the enveloping haze, out of sight, yet
still within earshot. Ambrose still searched for her, his convex head
following the soft thud of her hooves as she encircled him. His ears
perked forward alertly as her voice vibrated through the air. Do you
like secrets? He stood motionless, indifferent. A stoic expression
seized his features. He wasn't intent on playing along with her game.
His eyes had begun to transform colors ever slightly, showing the
faintest hint of black within their pupiless, silver contours.

Then, a vague outline of her figure assembled in the enshrouding fog.
Ambrose's brow furrowed as she spoke, ears positioned back a bit on
the zenith of his head. Yet another muffled snort rushed from his
nostrils. "State your business, or leave me alone. I have no interest
in cowards who hide among the mist." He said, his voice firm and to
the point. He found this mare somewhat irritating. His tail flicked
threateningly at his hocks as he watched her.

---

Psyche
March 6th, 2012 at 7:21pm

His annoyance only fuels her giddiness, spreading through her spry
limbs like the bite of arctic water. Excitedly, the mist swirls in
swaths along her sleek black body, purring against it like a happy
cat. He is not the fun kind, she can tell, just like her proud daddy.
Tail lashing easily along her haunch, she stalls for a moment,
disappearing from view and enveloped in the safe womb of vapor.

With a dramatic flourish, the mare appears before the stallion, all
wild eyes and clinging mist to shiny black hide. The stallion before
her is tall and (surprises?) black in color. He bears a profile of
noble convexity with blackening silver eyes. She tilts her head in
interest, the amber of her own pair studying the strange horned male
before her. His brash words are lost on her ears and she chooses to
smile, eyes narrow with suspicion. Psyche. Leader of the Plague - and
what are you doing here, ravishing black knight, concealed in such a
manner?, she says calmly, a hint of teasing in her collected voice.

---

Ambrose
March 7th, 2012 at 10:21pm

Beads of moisture clung to his ebony hide, making it feel heavy as he
stood unmoving, pupiless eyes straining to see her as a faint
silhouette assembled in the blinding haze. Soon enough, her entire
figure emerged, wisps of mist parting as she proceeded toward Ambrose.
She presented herself as Psyche. The dark stallion hoisted his head
somewhat higher into the air, peering critically into her pools of
liquid amber. "My name is Ambrose." He replied, convex head tilted
ever slightly as he scrutinized her physique, drinking in her
appearance. A leader, she called herself. He would not have guessed
upon first glance.

A concise moment of silence slunk by as Ambrose mused over the words
she had spoken. "Just thinking." He responded simply to her inquiry,
his husky, masculine voice characteristically stoical as the words
poured from his charcoal lips. He wasn't exactly feeling very social
at the moment. He still studied her, though not obnoxiously. His
argent gaze fell upon the colorful feathers that clung to her mane,
then shifted to her intriguing barbed horn. "And you?" He added, his
words actually accommodating a hint of inquisitiveness. He wasn't
entirely sure how he felt about this mare, yet.

---

Psyche
March 9th, 2012 at 7:14am

The black stallion studies her with strange pupiless eyes. His name is
Ambrose, an effeminate name for such a tall warrior? Psyche laughs
inside, wondering what kind of crackpot world she lived in where
cliffs lurk in the mist and strongmen are named like flowers. She
nods, face oblivious to the tumult inside.

He replies to her question. Just thinking? A wry smile snakes onto her
lovely face. I didn't take you as an intellectual, the mare says
casually, flicking her head, feathers rustling like an omen. Ambrose
studies her further and she snorts softly. I ain't some kind of
science experiment, the dark mare thinks, squinting daringly at the
stallion.

It is his turn to ask. Well, I live here, she replies, shrugging and
tossing the broad friesian head.

After a few moments of contemplation, she slips from her position
before him, looking back if he is following. Carefully, Psyche makes
her way to the edge, pausing when the push of water is stronger and
she feels the earth fall down and the emptiness in her breast with
follows. Assuming he is beside her, she begins, You live here?, she
asks, flicking an ear in his direction and watching the ocean,
shrouded as if recently dead and awaiting burial, mesmerized by the
waves and the ever-shifting mist.