A R A H

The clouds have me shrouded in grey

Nothing but deficient, fatuous and frivolous sonnets were expressed. The altercation inaugurated convictions of chagrin, discomfiture, pique and irritation. The alabaster doe rose her hymns, endeavouring to be perceived over the unproductive, incompetent and rather counterproductive cacophony. "Enough." Auspicious oculists shifted to observe Thranduil; skepticism, agnosticism and vigilance seared through her acuity scrutiny. Dissatisfaction integrated with chagrin and disgruntlement agitated her blood, instantly it insinuated that this encounter was nought but a lavish dissipation and adversity of her time. In the Basin her daughters prowled; anticipating her return, and here nothing had happened barring the surge of a riled, exasperated, embittered and an angered beast within the mother. Sighing out the embittered monster, the mineral mare readied to leave. With an inclination oh her regal prime towards her escort, the doe prepared to withdraw and dematerialise between the trees. The onyx, charcoal, obsidian and alabaster of Crash would not vanish competently; yet the hazardous, perilous, treacherous and formidable game had begun and Arah was not a player.

The devilish, fierce, menacing, intimidating and daunting creature who remained beside her had severed, cleaved, divided and permanently extracted the feathered appendage from a pegasus before. If Thranduil wanted to play, he could do it in his own time. Ever the diplomat, Arah conciliated and alleviate her last chant with silky and tender tones. "We must be returning to The Basin." Wynter soared exquisitely and skilfully overhead, her fierce and penetrating gaze fixated upon the new stallion. Reassuring melodies sang through their bond, affection for the winged creature peaked, a blossoming smile light up the elegant and delicate features of Arah. "If you wish to return with us, you are more than welcome to do so." Vocals called down to the doe's ivory ears, and upon her back landed a light weight. For it did not truly matter if Thranduil decided to follow her or not. The Sliver Doe had no time to waste on colts attempting to prove themselves as stallions, he may be older but it seemed the years had been wasted on him. Wisdom did not come to some, for Thranduil it did not seem like it would ever come.

360 words.
Had to rush the end of my post, apologises for the crappy ending.

And a sun set to lay away your day to day fears