Weeks passed lazily, the hot sun rising and falling day by day, the length of its return slowly growing shorter and shorter as the nights grew longer. Your coat is now less patchy and vulgar, though the knots in your already untamable mane and tail are still clearly there. We had managed to talk you into yanking a small mat of clustered hair from your tail not too long ago; the pain of the hairs being plucked from your ass end was not necessarily pleasant for you, but it provided us with a little excitement. We can feel that you are beginning to grow numb once more, the cluster of unfamiliar faces that pass your glazed eyes every day have seemed to take effect on your heart. Much like the Basin - You know very little company within our new homeland.

Hot hooves drag across the sand, the longing hope for your soul still somehow glistens off of the wet walls of the inside of your skull. We all slump around under a blanket of boredom, watching through the glossy red windows as the mounds continue to roll on and on, a never ending walk through what we like to call Hell, but what others like to call the Dragon's Throat. Your nostrils flutter loudly, a snort evacuating your lungs. We leap to our reptilian feet in hopes of some excitement, or any entertainment in certain... To see nothing. What the fuck? Find us something to do! You have done nothing but mope around ever since MIDAS -we wave our hands above our head to mock your jealously of the gold dripped stud- let you fucking stay here! Africa wants nothing to do with you, you are still a little kid to her, A FUCKING JOKE!

Your body halts, though it is difficult to tell if we were still moving due to your sad excuse of a stride. Stained teeth grind in your skull, the noise making us cover our ears and grimace. "Enough!" you boom, the vicious growl of your tone not only riling us up, but also making the hunger for your control manifest inside our non-existent bellies. "She doesn't think of me as a child, otherwise she would have never brought me back to her home." A silence cloaks the open air, the sun sitting low in the early morning sky being your only known audience. You are thinking, processing what had happened at your last encounter. There had been something there, right when you had spotted each other again. Hadn't there been? "Does she?" you whisper to yourself; but my friend, you must remember this: you are never alone.

With a deep breath and the release of tension with a sigh, you shake the misery from your head. The mare does not want you, she does not care for you any longer than you had cared for her. But she is your friend, your only friend. "That is a lie, I have Mauja, do I not?" Blood soaked ears tilt backward as if we are sitting along your spine and you wait for an answer. Instead of the reply you are hoping for, a series of chuckles bubble in your head as we all mock your social standing once more. Your nappy black tail snaps back and forth, the twisted ends lashing the backside of your long legs repeatedly before you stop. You stand alone in the desert, staring incoherently at the ocean that peaks through between two dunes of hot sand.

The sky began to contort, the light being suffocated out by an eerie darkness, the clouds rolling through the sudden nightfall frantically. From between the two dunes that your nervous eyes no longer are able to settle on, the edge of something creeps into view. Your pulse rises, becoming violent enough to create a visible throb in your thin chest. "Wha- what is that?" Your voice is soft and quivering even inside of your skull, the faintest wind could have swept it away. We rip the layers of thin blankets off of our sleepy selves, once more returning to the open -now aware- windows. The black mass of swirling air appears over one of the sandy hills in the distance, sucking everything that stands into the charcoal abyss. Something stretches from the dust-devil -make that two things. Limbs? Arms?

A cold lump forms in your throat, and we can feel it as well. RUN! What are you doing? RUN! We do not want to see what this seemingly unnatural tornado will do to you, to us. Still you stand and stare, the cyclone of demonic wind becoming closer and closer; "Run?" the word is lost in the wind, but we can hear you still. Yes, RUN! something massive is ripped from the clay beneath the layers of microscopic sand, a tree by what it looks like twirling through the air, entering the gut center of the black cyclone. Finally, behind the overwhelming pulse that's ringing in your ears, we can feel the erotic shot of adrenaline blow through your blood stream; like the first shot of fine whiskey to start a rowdy night.

All at once everything around is a blur of reds and yellows, your dark legs carrying us through the open range of sand. The whirlwind of air is now screaming behind your body, close enough to make you feel as if you're being drug through the air. The horizon is colorless, a mere shadow of whatever massive blockage of the sun is now set in the sky to linger. You rush over the dry earth in a hurry, long black legs covering enough ground to keep us all ahead of the deadly air. We are jolted around in your bobbing skull, attempting to sink our hot claws into the floor of your brain. Outside of our comfy little home, the dark clouds begin falling behind us, the suction of the tornado loosening it's cold grip around your dark throat.

The soft glow of orange spills over the landscape before us, a wash of relief billowing over your tri-colored body. Red tinted nostrils flare and deflate too quickly, your heart beating against your rib cage and prominent in your throat and ears as well. We stumble up onto our feet once more, the rush that continued to blow through your body sending us into a lethargic slump. It's gone boy, you're fine. Slow down now we plead, sliding onto our bellies and backs. You may not think so, but your energy level has completely drown us. Still your legs churn beneath you, your need to get as far away from that surely demonic disaster driving your body.

The red wine tinted windows catch movement off to your left; a body slipping into... A hole? What is tha- we're cut off by another violent jolt of your body. "Hel-hello?!" your voice -raspy and seemingly dark as always- reaches out to absolutely no one. There is no response, no turn of a head to see who may have called out to them. We find you standing still now, ears pressed forward in curiosity, nostrils still fluttering wildly. Don't. Do not do it we warn, a growl deep in out throats. Instead of listening, you ignore our warning, once more moving forward, but this time in a certain direction. Exhaustion circulates through your body, turning your legs to jelly molds and your head into a fifty pound stone.

A finely beat-in path is clearly visible to the mouth of an odd cave, lined with tall, dead grasses. The slow pace of your walk shows anticipation and worry, ears cocked forward and eyes set nervously on the dark mouth of what may be a hole to your death. But why such a worked in path if it is in fact dangerous? Once more you pause at the edge, the scents of so many strange bodies slapping you in the face, just like the much alive Threshold had on the day of your return. Without hesitation, you duck into the cavern, still quite alert, though you don't believe that you would physically be able to out-run anything right now.

A darkness capes your surroundings, the slightest hue of blues and greens dancing off of the cave walls. Cracked, dry hooves tap against rocky terrain as you navigate your way down the slope. The scent of hot bodies and stuffy air is revolting, enough to make you elongate an exhale every here and there. "What is this?" the earth below you finally levels out, your click of hooves against rock not being the only echo in here. You must remember this: you're never alone. we cackle and slip into the dark corners of your mind to watch the show. Alone you wander deeper into the cave, taking random turns, even recovering your past tracks without knowing it. The walls feel tight and miserable, the heat in the air making you feel as if you are slowly suffocating.

Tagged: Open
Ooc: I am soo sorry this is so long, most of it is explaining where he was while in AA. Feel free to skip up until the eighth paragraph if you're not interested in reading the other bull, :)
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Table by Frostie

Even though you think you are alone, you truly never are, are you? A deep, yet feminine voice echoes through the air off of the walls, your skin prickling and crawling at the unexpected vocals. Ears slam back to the tangled mess of hair along your spine, glossy eyes shifting to the figure looming in the shadows. A safe haven? Safe from what? we can feel you silently agree with us, your skin losing the goose bumps that had just developed only seconds ago. You shift your body toward the equine uncomfortably, eyes searching for patterns or extra figures to stand off of the body.

"Safe haven?" You question her, your gravely voice reaching around through the cave. The light filtering through the mouth of the cave provides you with enough vision to finally make out the female. A painted mare with creamy locks faces us, hiding in the darkness. We press for you to step forward, to meet the female that soaks in the shadows like a hungry cloud to rain. Instead you stand immobile, red gaze fixated on the mare. Your ears pull forward once more, the left staying cocked toward the open gateway of the underground city.

Discomfort constantly hangs around your body like a tight sweater, and no matter how often you pull and tug on it, it somehow always cinches back up around your dark throat. The situation that is bringing on this tight knit sweater is the vibe that radiates off of the quiet painted stranger. You stand, equally silent, staring at the figure that still is not one hundred percent visible. Something about her reminds us of you at one point if your life. Perhaps it is the fact that she stands where she prefers to not be seen, or that her voice sounded underused and thick, or it even may it was the aura that seeps off her and pools on the rock earth.

Tagged: @[Cheveyo]
Ooc: Oh thank you, but it was not beautiful! Lol. I ramble a lot, so this tiny post is dwarfed by our last two. xD
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Table by Frostie

The sturdy built female emerged from the distant shadows like a sleepy bear from their cozy hibernation, her strange eyes that look severely blood shot watch you as she moves. When you question her vague response to a question that you believed no one would hear, a smile just almost pulls at pink lips. "-the wraiths taking over the lands." Her voice was less gruff this time around, though something about it makes you uncomfortable; you feel as I the mare is going to lurch at you at any moment. "Have you not bumped into one of those-" she hesitates "wonderful creatures?"

We stir uncomfortably in our warm home, attempting to find anything that seemed unfamiliar or arguably "wonderful" in your dusty memory files. We rummage through the safe keepings with long, curled nails, huffing under our horrendous breath at simple-minded memories, occasionally tossing a few from the pile to spill out onto the hot underside of your skull. "Unless a wraith is what is covering the skies and.. eating everything above ground.. No." You shift uncomfortably as you respond to the rosey-eyed mare.

Her hide is a soft, warm color that reminds you of mid-Orangemoon, splashed with large portions of white. Both nostrils and uncomforting eyes are surrounded by red circles, her white snout striped with uneven blue lines. More strange markings stain her natural hide, but you notice the yellow shapes on all four beige hooves. Rummy pools search the mare's body for more interesting markings. You glance back up from the yellow painted triangles to notice the adverted gaze of the mare before you. You've gone and creeped her out. Good job You swallow hard, the lack of saliva in your dry mouth making it nearly impossible.

Tagged: @[Cheveyo]
Ooc: You're fine hun, <3
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Table by Frostie

The colorfully painted stranger continued to move forward, her creamy tail zipping behind her with little volume, but enough to make your ears quiver as they usually would. What kind of pansy ass man are you? He's not a man. Surely he's been through enough to stir him up, but for the love of god boy, YOU ARE A COMPLETE PUSSY! the arguement between whether or not it's "correct" to call you a pussy rallies between two of us for a few silent seconds. Meanwhile, you are attempting to zone us out and listen to the female and her explaination on whatever these... "wraiths" are. Turns out, she only proves your question to be partially correct.

A throat clearing is necessary for you to metiforically swallow the news that there was something going on upstairs. Questions rattle through your head at a million miles an hour, bouncing around like mad in the small spaces of your cranium. As you process what to ask, the mare shakes her face, an odd suction occurring in her maw; your ears flick backward at the noise as it rattles about in the fuzzy tunnels. "I am Cheveyo of what was once the Windtossed Foothills by the way." Her soft voice rolled from her throat and hit you in the face, but why her words bother you does not make sense. What do you know about this place? Or her? Nothing of either, surely.

"Voodoo." The name is spoken with a reluctant, soft tone. Every introduction only reminds you of how badly you hate yourself for so many reasons that you cannot control. You can start telling everyone your name is Doo McDouche we giggle to ourselves - high fives are exchanged. You huff quietly, the hot breath that has returned to normal since your arrival to this supposed underground oasis. "We- I-I-I am from the Throat." Fear strikes your entire body as you state "we," your immediate reaction is to stammer on your words. Nothing this Cheveyo would notice.. Right? Your throat becomes tight and unwilling to draw in a large amount of air.

Tagged: @[Cheveyo]
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Table by Frostie