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02-14-2014, 04:08 PM
with that shadow upon the ground, I hear my people screaming out
In every hero there was adversity, in every epic there was tragedy, in every love story there was burning hatred. Always, there were two sides to a tale, for sake of simplicity, the good and the bad. In one essence you could be the saviour of everything and in another; a cold, callous catastrophe. Life's puppet strings tugged this way and that, even if one thought himself governed by his own laws, we were all governed fate and coincidence in the end. At least, these were the thoughts of Fiore, who strictly put himself on the side of the bad, not because he was some big time ruffian with a chip on his shoulder. Nor was it because he'd taken hold of the heart and tossed away the breath of another. No; he pictured himself as a cataclysm for disaster, a walking omen who caused collapse wherever he went, even when he raised no hoof or voice. It just seemed, that the places his blue windows touched upon, a black cloud followed close behind. King of calamity, the unlucky one. That was that, and he was a simple horse who'd chosen to look upon the world in such a downcast manner for various reasons.
The rain, however, he liked.
Washing away the dirt of the past as pale legs carried his lithe body into a new land, one that was initially filled with trees and the cold embrace of winter. The cold shiver reminded him of much darker days in his past, leaving a bitter taste, but it wasn't time to stray back to that scene. He wasn't ready to face the emotion that lay hidden behind those thoughts. Fiore was in a much more pressing predicament after all. If he wished not to become ill from wet and cold, it was probably wise he did not linger much longer in the open, now matter how much he loved it. He pushed away unhappy memories, pressing into a brisk canter, being careful of branches that hung low to his face. He had travelled for around ten minutes when he came across the cavern in the inhabitant inside.
It was hard to see through the deluge hammering down from the sky if there was enough room in nature's little shelter with a mare who was a chestnut hue, darkened by the rain. He couldn't really see her expression, just the blur of her bodice through the rain and he proffered his head, hoping she could see him. "Would you mind sharing your shelter?" He asked and his voice, that was usually light as a feather, shouted above the roar of the shower, wondering if she would oblige his request. The belle seemed alone after all, not all mares liked being in the presence of strange stallion when they were isolated, in that case he hoped she'd hurry up her answer so he could bolt and find somewhere else. His own hues of auburn going a similar dark colour, whilst the white turned into a mucky grey. All in all it was a miserable day, but it couldn't be helped.
@[Boadicea]
The rain, however, he liked.
Washing away the dirt of the past as pale legs carried his lithe body into a new land, one that was initially filled with trees and the cold embrace of winter. The cold shiver reminded him of much darker days in his past, leaving a bitter taste, but it wasn't time to stray back to that scene. He wasn't ready to face the emotion that lay hidden behind those thoughts. Fiore was in a much more pressing predicament after all. If he wished not to become ill from wet and cold, it was probably wise he did not linger much longer in the open, now matter how much he loved it. He pushed away unhappy memories, pressing into a brisk canter, being careful of branches that hung low to his face. He had travelled for around ten minutes when he came across the cavern in the inhabitant inside.
It was hard to see through the deluge hammering down from the sky if there was enough room in nature's little shelter with a mare who was a chestnut hue, darkened by the rain. He couldn't really see her expression, just the blur of her bodice through the rain and he proffered his head, hoping she could see him. "Would you mind sharing your shelter?" He asked and his voice, that was usually light as a feather, shouted above the roar of the shower, wondering if she would oblige his request. The belle seemed alone after all, not all mares liked being in the presence of strange stallion when they were isolated, in that case he hoped she'd hurry up her answer so he could bolt and find somewhere else. His own hues of auburn going a similar dark colour, whilst the white turned into a mucky grey. All in all it was a miserable day, but it couldn't be helped.
@[Boadicea]
