the Rift


[PRIVATE] resentment grows

Thranduil the Laurelin Posts: 598
Outcast atk: 5.5 | def: 11 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.2 hh :: Eight HP: 77 | Buff: ENDURE
Haldir :: Common Cerndyr :: Dark Mist Hawk
#2



Vanilla locks shake loose from their place as the cloud comes to rest alongside the floating isle. Weary sigh settles on the isle of peace as the golden steps onto the soft turf. The last few days had been anything but calm, and in truth the golden was still not recovered. Soul was settling back down into the blackness where it belonged, but it was not quietly put to rest. So the golden found himself wandering. The cool slip of night had led the worn creature here, to where one of the last cool, worry free nights had been spent.

Time was all it needed, time and perhaps a small lie or two to mend his pride. At least his wounds were healed, and the future down below, seemed to be coming together. Soon he would be in the Throat doing as he did best, spreading lies, gathering an inner strength. For now though, rest. Rest and peace…

Or perhaps not. A black figure stands, or tries. Laced back was bowed, while the usually ivory crowned head was low and dark. The black flesh was blistered and warped, even from here the golden could smell the singed hair and flesh. It was not all together agreeable, but the justice helped it go down. The blind brute was no fool, even that sly golden man could not escape unnoticed. If they’re going to pin you down, might as well, strike a pose. Smug at being better healed that that creature the golden wanders up dangerously close to the black creature and stops.

Silence continues as the golden stretches it out in satisfaction at seeing his advisory so much worse for wear. Still, he hadn’t gone through his own hell hole without a lesson or two. Not that the golden would ever admit to being taught a lesson. Oh no, he learned these himself. Learned to be cautious of a quick tongue. Even it could serve wit on a silver tray, not every situation required it. Especially as he once again faced down those long black horns. So instead of commenting on how the black looked, or how he should open his eyes next time before walking on fire, the golden man merely lets it roll out low. “Hello there dear friend.” Oh yes, the black beast may have caused the slow and low day the gold had had, but now he was making up for it. What better pick-me-up than seeing your enemies low and looking like they went through hell, and you not even have to get your hooves dirty.


OOC ::
"speech"

Never was there a faster medicine,
Than seeing your enemy's depression.
credits

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Messages In This Thread
resentment grows - by Morir - 08-28-2014, 04:32 PM
RE: resentment grows - by Thranduil - 09-06-2014, 09:50 PM

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