M A N I C
everybody's watching;
![[Image: ______by_manicmondays-d6dk53s.png]](http://fc07.deviantart.net/fs70/f/2013/196/b/8/______by_manicmondays-d6dk53s.png) |
warm air, it was such an addiction. Encouraging the splashed mare to frolick like the filly she just barely was. Just old enough to be an adult and fully done growing at 13 hands, and a few inches, she was a stocky little thing. Spunky, filled with life and passion ans secrets. Haunted by her ghosts and showing none of it the young mare cavorted gaily in the warmth of dappled sunlight. Oblivious to the world around her, who or what awaited her here? So far from home she was at last on her own, at last free of torment- maybe- so now what?
This sobering thought stilled the young mare in her tracks. The soft clack of torquiose beads against each other as she stilled was the only sound on the beeze now. Now what? It finally sank in. She, Manic, was utterly and completely alone. There would be no help from friends and family. No mother to guide her, no.... anything. Independance, was it what she really wanted?
Snort! Why should this stop her? Independance was everything. Freedom, being her own boss, supporting herself.... lonely nights, chilly winds and stalking shadows. No! She refused to let the bad devour the good of this day. Determinedly Manic stamped the fears down and paced the clearing she had played in moments before. It was a quaint little meadow, belly deep in rich grasses. Juicy, green tantalizing grasses. Mouth watering, belly rumbling she dove into the grass with the gusto of a starved creature.
"SPEECH YO"
Coding created by Animus for Jabow's use only
image created by fishie/manic of manicmondays.deviantart.com
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| Deceased atk: 5.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 4.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2 hh :: 10 (ages in Orangemoon) HP: 62.5 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Zarina :: Pygmy Marmoset :: Quantum Leap
ChaoticMelodies |
She is a tiny creature, the mare in the meadow.
The prince stands among the trees, having wandered upon her petite form in his irritable rambling. He did not set out today to reach the rolling hills and open forests of the Threshold, and yet here he stands. The misted cliffs of the World's Edge don't feel quite right to him anymore - not when his life has become so static, so unchanging, so unsatisfying. His King and Queen are busy doing... whatever it is that needs doing in this land. His lover is busy finding herbs and curing everyone's aches and pains. He has no friends to speak of, having devoted his time in Helovia to just one mare.
When did he become so tame?
Zarina, the pygmy marmoset that perches atop his poll, comments that his silent watching makes him seem quite creepy, and he snorts softly, chuckling. She is quite right, he realizes suddenly, and so he steps forward from the shadow of the trees and into the grasses that have somehow managed to retain their color even this late in Orangemoon.
"Hello," he calls as he picks his way easily through the tall grasses. Once clear of the trees, he stretches his wings out to the sides, ruffling his feathers until they fell into neat, symmetrical lines. He halts a fair distance from her, folding his wings back against his sides. He does not wish to scare the fae (and he has had plenty of experience with flighty females), so he merely smiles slightly and offers a friendly question: "Do you mind if I join you, m'lady?"
"more words."
Quilyan
counting on the night for a beautiful day;
subtlepatterns.com | kaydeniro & larfsalot @ deviantart
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