the Rift


[OPEN] Dear Mother, As This Noose Is Placed Around My Neck | open

Erebos Posts: 474
Aurora Basin General atk: 7.5 | def: 11.5 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1hh :: Four HP: 75.5 | Buff: DANCE
Orsino :: Plain Kitsune :: Dark Illusions & Enyo :: Common Griffon :: Draining Clutch Heather
#7

He stared amidst the silence, another sentinel against the chilling, frigid sky, waiting for an answer, a sign, an acknowledgement of something, anything, from the filly dressed, veiled, and cloaked in black. But she seemed to dim, seemed to fade, and the colt wanted to shake, throttle, or pull her from whatever malice suddenly plagued her, because anyone with gall, anyone with mettle, anyone with spirit should be allowed to maintain their brilliance. A beast with nerve, a cretin with audacity, with boldness segmented into their sinew, could be an essence of the future, a notch of the effervescent, a keen, sharpened blade augured to their tongues, to their goals, to their ambitions. All he could do was watch and witness, remain and press, be vigilant and wary, wonder and speculate as the girl withered before his eyes – as if she’d been weary too, and finally lost the crisp, daring, intrepid motions spurring her here in the first place. On a note of dauntlessness, he stepped closer, provided her with endless smiles and impish grins and devilment promised; if she wanted mischief, he could hand it over to her, and if she wanted amusement, he could speak of eternal diversions. But the smirk grew faint too, wandering away from his lips, from his mouth, as she began to speak, as she told a brief tale of her mother, of her dam who’d lived amongst the north, who’d died and left her alone – to meander across plains and valleys, along legends and creeds, and something stirred within him, as if the filly had more to tell, and she kept it from him. Within their tiny space, he coerced and dragooned, arching one brow, narrowing his eyes in the dust, in the delusion, of machinations. His voice came on a blunt, coarse, decisive note, a little cold, a little calculating, registering mythos and particles of his scholarly lessons, of names and titles and phrases suddenly put to good use. “Who was your mother?” Then, as if remembering his desires, his masks, the boy brought back his princely smile. “I can try. What do you need?”

@[Själ]

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RE: Dear Mother, As This Noose Is Placed Around My Neck | open - by Erebos - 06-22-2015, 03:40 PM

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