To be “touched” is a wondrous thing. “To touch” is that of the same prolonged desire. But to be felt is that of another nature. Thoughts, emotions, and feelings (even those of the physical nature) have long existed between all beings in life. It is a thing that graces not only you and I, but a thing that inhabits the world around us. Insanity had never felt the innocence of emotions, not in this life so muted in silver. She longed to feel the hot grip of love, the long, gnarled fingers of hate, and the cold, blue tendrils of sadness… But emotions were lost to her and instead she resided in a grey world of purgatory. She was destined to observe those around her, understanding one another, loving one another, feeling one another as she wished to be felt. However, as she broke free of her instabilities, she fled her ashen world for a world of color and possible demise. She wanted to breathe the musty air of freedom in which she sucked wholly through new lungs. She would be contained no longer.
Beneath a heavy, crusted lid lay an empty black pool that threatened to swallow those who dared glimpse her. Her gait was even, if not fluid in nature and she wore her tattered coat with uncompromising dignity. Insanity was not afraid to grace this earth as the demon she appeared to be and in her valiant reign across the barren lands, she ghosted her way through lifetimes of defeat. Her mere presence was frightening, and yet in spite of her ghoulish features, hauntingly beautiful. Thick chords of matted tail snapped and rippled at her haunches and her overgrown mane struggled to keep hold of her thick neck like an ebony collar to that of a hellhound. As the day began to lose it’s fight to the suffocating grasp of nightfall, she opened up her spindly legs to the callous ground below. It shook beneath her wide feet, trembling in her shadow like a hidden grave. The tempest was on the hunt for those willing and otherwise to satisfy her hunger, however undefined that hunger may be. Nightly, as she called to the heavens in search of her true purpose, the world was bestowed a most unpleasant sound. Upon those notes rode the deep symphony of tortured sadness, accompanied after by an anguished tune. She was in every meaning of the word, tormented, but just as enthralling. Her heart had long since been ripped from the cavernous hole in her thin chest and now she searched desperately to find it’s replacement.
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.3 :: 8 |
| Epona |
L E A N D E R
The skeletal expanse of the Threshold was paled with snow, but the evening's blanket began to darken the white place. The seasons had flown by, and Leander could all too well remember flying above this very forest when it was in the fiery colors of Orangemoon. It seemed that Frostfall had come quickly to give a proper backdrop to his troubled heart, leaving everything barren and cold. The land still held beauty, but it was fierce. It had come accurately in the midst of the battle with the Edge. Though his side of the attack had been victorious, there was often little pleasure to take in it. Not when he desperately wanted to love someone who had lost her home because of him. Lost in his own thoughts, the gold, winged stallion trudged on through the blackening wood.
A voice of sorrow rang out in the night, not so different from the sadness he himself was fighting. The sound rang feminine, but so grieved it was almost hard to tell. Sooty ears stood tall on his crown above searching eyes. Feathered pillars continued to carry him through the bony trees at a walk. He wasn't sure who or what had made the call, and a part of him almost didn't want to know. But curiosity won him over, and finally white inked eyes caught the mare's form in the dying light. A ghastly mistress, with long and wild tresses. If not for the odd beauty she seemed to hold, he might have thought she were a wraith. "Hello, miss." Leander dipped his ivory maned head at the creature, without taking his gaze away from her. "Are you alright?" There was some confusion in his deep, concerned chords. Where had this mysterious dame come from? It seemed the Threshold ushered in more and more odd things every day.
 |
Her attention was caught by the light shifting into shadow as he approached. Her bleak gaze lifted from the ground with almost painful discretion to lie directly on her companion. Beneath those wiry lashes, her eyes ran wild with imagination, dark secrets brewing there, drawing her guest inside with methodic invitation. Oh he was nothing like she’d ever seen before; feathered appendages resting upon his tender back. The dreary remnants of Avalon screeched recklessly across her thoughts before she could comprehend his conversation. For a moment she appeared lost, foolishly grabbling for thought or response before finally settling back into herself. She painted this stranger into her world for a moment as the grey receded to color, letting him in. Such a kindred spirit to lay eyes upon after so long in the dark, but that did not lighten her soul. Instead she retreated to her own grisly realm, the barren Threshold hiding her baneful intent in the deafening silence. “Define the meaning of such resolve and perhaps I can answer your inquisition. I’ve no demons to share if that’s what you’re questioning.”
She bit back her lavish tongue after such a retort and rested a fiery gaze on the pale titan. For a moment she drank him in, turning the possibilities around in her head like a child. Her mind ran aimlessly here and there answering constant queries in her own mind, breaking and rebuilding ties that had long since been severed. Her broken abilities to maintain such composure showed quite vibrantly against the self-awareness of her visitor. In some newfound resolution, she decided against her guarded impression and instead welcomed a fabricated version of what she could have been. “I extend warm graces for such a violent tongue if you would be obliged to accept. My skills have been eroded with reclusion and sometimes I forget myself. Perhaps you bare entitlement that I might later refer to you by?” She tried with no such victory to break the utter tension that had grown heavy in her old bones. This was no time to be self-sufficing.
Ooc; I need a little time to settle back into her personality so I'm sorry if this was a bit suck-ish...
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.3 :: 8 |
| Epona |
L E A N D E R
Slight confusion entered the stallion's face. The strange mare spoke in a riddle like dialect, almost too difficult for him to make out. Dilligently, he had to piece the phrases apart, and assess the vocabulary. But he listened carefully to the words, and was finally able to gauge her meaning. "I heard your call. You sounded very forlorn." He spoke, trying to explain himself as best he could. Though with the black femm's odd tongue, it probably wouldn't do much good. He returned her gaze with his own, though staring wasn't the most polite of greetings.
The dark, abstruse mistress was pretty, and yet, his heart only longed for the beauty of Faelene. Images of the garnet tressed dame flashed through his mind as they often did, lingering with the thought of her. Still, his inquisitive nature pulled him towards this ebon doe, wondering what had caused her to cry out into the dawning night with such sadness. She continued on, and he met her ochre gaze. Again, his mind fumbled through the elaborate speech, taking a few seconds to muddle through the meanings of the language. "I am Leander, a skilled Warrior of the Dragon's Throat herd. Do you seek shelter, miss?" At the least, he could try to make sure this equine was alright, and offer her a home if she needed one.
[ooc: Your writing is fine! ^__^]
|
Her breath caught in her throat, curling and uncurling as gusts of air erupted from her lungs. She seemed to be calm enough now to understand the poor stallion’s request and she could do nothing but feel a small hint of civility towards him. However, the term he had used in part to describe her struck her nerves all wrong. Forlorn, yes… but only nearly so. Her resolve had been shattered along with the burning ashes of what she had once called home. Avalon had been a great empire, offering refuge to those wounded souls such as herself. The dispute between the lights and darks had been the only known conflict of the land, that is until Insanity had met the infamous Jackal. She had almost been crowned queen of his damned revolution but as her namesake foretold, she took leave of the land when Jackal’s rein was finally rising. Her heart swelled with remembrance and the cold ache that had broken free of her throat came coursing back, filling her with the most terrible pain she had even been inflicted.
Once more, she felt the strange urge to free herself of such mortal inspirations to find her undead king. To be free of this aging flesh and rotten bones, to be unseeing once again by his side… It sounded almost surreal and while she daydreamed about her own singular desires, she almost got lost in the secretive world she had created for her own purpose. However, this kindly titan brought her back to earth, wrenching her soul from the skies and the happiness that awaited there, baring smoldering black eyes that called ceaselessly from the heavens. The darkened world of the living wrapped rough fingers around her throat, asphyxiating her dreams until there was nothing left but mere defeat. Her eyes found the stallion’s once more, swollen with pain, anger, and mild psychosis until she could remain silent no longer. His offer to shelter such a troubled wanderer touched her immensely and she felt grateful for his understanding. “I have no place that I call home… and I do indeed find myself in this wasteland in search of the word.”
Nothing more seemed appropriate as she gathered her restless cries back into her empty stomach. This pale reminder of comfort only made her shift uncomfortably against the frozen breath of winter as she gazed into the quiet world around her. She longed to be more accepting of her guest, but she knew only time would heal such deep scars. His eyes were so open and daring that she envied his obvious naivety. He seemed so young in her own comparison because of the determination that she saw not only in the way he held himself, but also in the way he was able to hide his own hurting desires behind such wholesome eyes. It was this attribute about him that made the small dark mare accept such a forward gesture. He had no idea what she had been through before traveling to Helovia and he was so utterly trusting of her innocence. She sympathized with such a pure heart and wished she could soothe his pain but knew only that such actions would require the resolution of the agony in her own chest.
Since the past was the past and there was no looking back she decided upon a life filled with healing. This was a new beginning for a dying heart and she only knew to accept this meeting as such. She knew she didn’t have to understand this stallion or really interpret the meaning behind his words, she only knew that his mere acquaintance was necessary to bring her back to life. “I’m Insanity.”
Ooc; wahhh, I hope this was better my dear. (:
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.3 :: 8 |
| Epona |
L E A N D E R
It was becoming easier to keep his mind off of his own dark object of desire as he stood before the strange mare. She looked upon him, her gaze a twisted and foreign sight. It seemed that emotion was ravaging the dame, though she didn't reveal anything to indicate it. He'd seen Faelene with pain in her eyes more than once, so the signal had become simple enough to recognize. What had happened to this wild black doe? Her speech seemed far older than her body, and the feelings smeared across her visage were intense. He could only wonder what had made such a lovely mare seem so troubled; and it was a wondering he'd had about a good deal of others.
"You would be welcome to make your home in the Dragon's Throat herd if you desire. We live in a lush Oasis not far from here." He offered with a soft smile. Honestly, Kri was probably going to think him some kind of great womanizer if he brought home yet another pretty mare. He'd brought three newcomers into the herd already, only one of which was a stallion. But with the knowledge that the ed-Edge Unicorns were regrouping to the North, Leander knew the herd could use all the members it could get. For he did not believe that the land of the World's Edge would be in peace forever, no matter how much the Qian might want that. No, vengeance was an all too familiar concept for the charger. For now, he had to help grow the Throat as best he could. And providing a safe haven for needy souls was something he had come to enjoy. The onyx mistress spoke again, pulling his thoughts back to the present. "Pleased to meet you, Insanity." He could only hope her name was not too appropriate.
|
| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK |
| Blu |
"I would not consider a Dragon's Throat to be a lush oasis."
A smooth voice cut through the trees as a buttermilk body slipped in after it. Teal eyes glittered in the filtered light as they gazed past the pegasus and sat wholly on the eyeline of the wonderfully equine mare. A black and white shape moved at his feet as a border collie weaved in and out of his stride, nose rummaging among the snow with apparent nonchalance. It was the keen senses of the dog that had led the stallion here, to her.
Settling into a casual stance opposite the pegasus Ricochet cocked a hip and proffered a glittering smile. It was a tilted, rough thing, only lifting the unscarred half of his face - the other ached something fierce if he moved it too much so he reserved those painful moments for baring his teeth instead. "I would think if it was a lush oasis it would be called lush oasis, no?" Ricochet continued, and though his words were truly directed at Leander, he did not pull his gaze from the mare. She was the only one that interested him here.
His words would be well heeded, as he had lived in a lush oasis before. It was his past herd's name, back in Isilme. He did not let such thoughts taint his conscious now however - that land was decimated.
Either way, his words rung with a certain, undeniable truth.
A bit smug, his neck arched with a touch of arrogance and his voice thick with confidence, Ricochet let his maw part once more. "I would hate to see a lady like yourself stuck in a desert before first knowing of your other options." Ricochet dipped his head in a nod here, whuffling in low greeting as he did so. "I am Ricochet, warrior of the Windtossed Foothills, a true paradise of scenery and dare I say, company?" He meant himself only of course, not much liking the majority of company to be found in the Foothills - too many of it had wings and horns. He did not hint at this however, genuine as ever.
|
 Her aging bones ached with discomfort as the cold crawled into her body, forcing its way from her legs into her hips and up along her spine. Inside she grew restless, every moment making the urge to run almost unbearable. Her frozen heart longed isolation, whether it be a curse or a blessing she was still unsure. Glancing upon Leander, this kindhearted revelation of what she had once identified with, she knew that she had lost all ability to become the likes of such an openhearted creature once more. It was even hard to understand the feathered additions that rested upon his back. “Dragon’s Throat? Such a menacing title for something you refer to as a grand oasis. Perhaps you could enlighten me on the attributes…?” The way he spoke of the land made such a title seem almost irrelevant because he spoke of it with such fervor and admiration. Maybe his offer was an offer she was unable to refuse. “I am just as pleased to make your acquaintance gentle Leander.”
However, in a burst of blinding light, another appeared from the frostbitten infinity. He moved with purpose and obviously had other ideas about the mention of Leander’s offer. He addressed Leander as if they had come in contact before this time but the tension made her shift with anxiety. The roll of her eyes was a clear indicator of this and she pressed backwards in order to free herself of such animosity. The new stallion was similar in coloring to that of Leander, but much stockier than said companion. The glint of power in his gaze made her curious however. His personality drew small reference of her beloved Jackal, but she knew he was not one in the same. But it did light the small fire that had almost burned out within her chest, one that had given her great life in the past. “Surely you are not acquainted with my particular needs.” A small smirk graced her lips at this remark but this did not sway her intentions toward either male.
“The Windtossed Foothills, a much more tempting name, however, as I see it neither empire deserves favor without reason my dear Ricochet.” Her eyes danced with challenge now, tossing gasoline to the fire that had been ignited between the two stallions. She regretted to disgrace Leander this way but the deviant inside wished conflict and so she obliged. The darkest side of her desires wished to accept Ricochet and his twisted version of arrogance, but the better side of her knew better than to fall for first impressions. Should she wish to follow Leander home, where would it lead her? She was unsure of both titans and this only made their intellectual battle more important. It was in this matter that she decided, the winner should be graced with her own pleasantries… if they could be called such.
The night's on fire
where is your God?
|
HorseRidingFreak
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.3 :: 8 |
| Epona |
L E A N D E R
White rimmed eyes watched in usual patience as the doe considered his offer. He'd made the same invitation many times, and the words had always flowed with easy sureness. For the Throat was a strong herd, lead by a good leader, one who did not take the title of Queen or monarch. His admiration for Kri had grown immensely, even when he himself had once been just a skeptical newcomer. There was no doubt in his mind that the herd he had chosen was right. Unfortunately, though understandably, dark Insanity spoke with her own doubts. "The title has nothing to do with the herd, only the place. It is a historical name, given by events that took place on the land eons ago. The Throat has a large lake in it's core, surrounded by lush grasses and foliage. Portions are sand, and to the far reaches lies the sea." With a bright expression, he did his best to explain the geography. A rude interruption in the form of a ruddy hued boy and a dog soon sauntered in.
A scampy young thing compared to himself at least, both in appearance and speech, it seemed. Lately, the Threshold had been filled with recruiters from other herds, their blatant hunger for new members almost reeking from their smutty hides. It was sad to see the other groups stoop so low to grab at newcomers to feebly badmouth their neighboring herds. Leander made a mental note of this little more than a colt's herd; the Windtossed Foothills. Something told him the dunskin did not hold much status there, even with the easily gained title of warrior. His usually warm expression hardened, locked on the young stallion that was gawking over the onyx mare. "Ah, I take it you have never been to the Dragon's Throat then, young Ricochet. For I was just explaining to this fine lady that it's centerpiece is a large body of water. Not typically something you'd find in a desert." After giving some smirking enlightenment to the tanned boy, he continued with focus back on the polite maiden. "Titles and descriptions can be very deceiving as I'm sure you know, my lady. Both Ricochet and I could tell you pleasant things about our own herds for hours. You are welcome to come visit the Dragon's Throat and judge it's worth for yourself, even if you do not wish to join our herd. Our values are of unity and justice; we do not force anyone to be stuck in the Throat, nor do we attempt to belittle our neighboring groups. I merely extend an offer to newcomers who seek a place to find loyalty and family." Golden eyes burned with righteous conviction, his whole 17.3 hand mass radiating cool validity. No matter what the mare did now, he could be confident in the fact that his own home was good enough to be joined without dirt talking anyone else's. The Throat was strong, and he knew it well.
|
| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK |
| Blu |
Oh she is coy.
Ricochet grins a wolfish thing at her smirk, his confidence solidified by that small curve of her lips and the humm of her playful voice. "Would you be so kind as to acquaint me then?" he murmurs with a touch of a gutteral growl, feral and rich with promise of what he could provide her if only he knew.
The squawking pervades the air then. Likely it had started earlier but Ricochet's ears easily tune out obnoxious pegasus sounds. The intimate moment crumbles.
The smooth edge leaves the stallion's face as something darker settles into the lines of his expression. With a sharp snap his eyes are upon the blathering bird and they have lost all they kind light previously offered to the mare. That glow has been snuffed out by the ashen foul of a fire burnt. The smoke coils in the teal of his iris as a glower that suggests malice. "Repeating yourself in a different manner doesn't give your statement more truth. The lady and I both heard you before and yet it's just as lacking no matter how much spit your tongue coats it with," Ricochet rumbles, his voice like the cool edge of a trigger about to be depressed.
The pegasus continued however, his tongue like a pink worm wagging between the darker piles of lip that never seemed to seal for more than a breath. Irritation quickly subsided within Ricochet despite this however, replaced instead with a caustic amusement. This bird made himself a better fool than he could ever manage. All the same, he could not resist ruffling those horrendous feathers. "You've made no attempt to belittle anyone because none can get smaller than you and yours," Ricochet snorted, his gaze eagerly flouncing back to the mare at hoof.
"He would ask you to walk all the way to his dust bowl only because he is too lazy to tell you about himself." Ricochet made a tsking noise in his throat, head shaking with a dramatic disapproval. "Though the name of the Foothills may be more appealing than a Throat, it would privilege me to expand on it further should you so desire." Ricochet is almost sickly sweet, a show more than anything. He shakes it off with a toss of his neck that dishevels his mane. The rough grin returns and all pretenses of a crooning gentleman dropped in favor of provocative sultries. "Truly though I am curious as to all your desires."
|
Tell me would you kill to save a life?
The quiet stretched out between them, burning small lesions into the air like a crackling fire whose embers had been tossed chaotically outside the pit. It was obvious that the two males had no amiable graces to be shared and the small raven knew it. She could only smile in the spotlight of such a situation due to her rather grisly appeal and loathsome personality. However, she sought to become only a mere decoration to the cool air that blustered around the trio, trying to remain detached from either side. On the one hand, she had bright Leander who spoke quite avidly of his homeland and on the other, the dark Ricochet who had piqued her interest with such a domineering charisma. In her head she had made a decision, whether it be for her best interests or her uncontrollable curiosity, only time would tell.
"The sea brings light to such a refuge for I long to fill my lungs with the briny atmosphere and wade against the high tide… I find my soul would be content to lie peacefully upon the shores.” She gazed upon Leander now, though her stare was only skin-deep as she began to lose herself in the memories of Avalon. She had once lived upon the sands of the Shore Side, soaring above the waters like a sea bird, the winds of freedom carrying her heart to places of no real importance. But it was that freedom that gave her relief from every worry and every dread that had eclipsed her eternal happiness with fear. Now, the memories brought her great anguish and she almost wished to banish them, set them loose to roam the new wintry skies of Helovia. Avalon was a place long forgotten, though well remembered.
Returning to the dreary conversation at hand, the small mare lifted her head to breeze gulping in the clean air that not only made her feel whole but froze her internally as well. Bitter tastes of insult to injury reminded her of better days and she found herself growing bored with the argument at hand. Loyalty, family, life, love, loss… they all seemed to blend together in a hateful mix of nothing because that’s exactly how she felt when it came to this senseless quarrel-absolutely nothing. Now she set eyes on the dun skin youngster, only entering his prime. His age could be something valued or repugnant, depending on his wit and talent to persuade her. “My needs are very defined, almost unobtainable if I were to attend to them in explicit detail. However, if one must inquire of such, then I should be more than happy to oblige… in a more exclusive setting.” She was brimming with temptation now, teasing and luring this younger adaptation of her cherished Jackal into her perverted net.
“If either party desires my favoritism, perhaps this quarreling should cease. I find that better representation of both would lie in visitation to each mentioned estate. I find my head merely muddled by your insults at one another and nothing would please me more than to hear it end.” She paused at this, clearly frustrated with the events that had taken place. “In the place where I come from, decisions were not given to the likes of mine and I find it difficult to make such incriminations of either district. In your best words, I would like to hear just a simple phrase, one that should sway your influence, then perhaps I shall decide.” She flung her head at this, each matted tendril reaching toward the sky and then falling again to embrace her thick neck. She was surely a frightful thing, her queer beauty lying merely in the eyes of the beholder.
![[Image: insanityu.png]](http://imageshack.us/a/img204/2940/insanityu.png)
|
| Hidden Account |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 17.3 :: 8 |
| Epona |
10-15-2012, 08:05 AM
(This post was last modified: 10-15-2012, 08:05 AM by Leander.)
L E A N D E R
Despite the grin that had somewhat stoically planted itself on his lips, Leander wondered how loud the little boy's mouth would be if they were opponents on a battle ground. White ringed orbs gazed down mirthfully on the boys form as he continued to feebly throw insults around. It seemed that the dark mare would be smart enough to see that the boy couldn't say anything good about his own home. But the young one's bold antics might allure the older mistress, and if so, the golden charger would rather leave her with the child. Choices like these said much for their owners.
"Do you really have so little to say about your own herd that you have to dig for empty insults? I have no need to demean your group; the Throat's worth needs no petty help. Your actions speak for themselves." A deep, growling chuckle emanated from his throat, and his gilded crown shook at the comedic array of bashing. In all seriousness, he was going to have to have a word with Kri about this arrogant little runt. It appeared that the Foothills needed to be doing a much better job of keeping it's members in check, and he was quite certain he would let them know. Caramel pools flashed back to the mysterious dame, the familiar warmth in their brilliant depths resuming. Her feminine voice rings again. Of course she was ready for the bickering to cease. As was he. It was a single phrase she wanted, and that was what the burly warrior gave. "Choose wisely, my lady, for those with sharp tongues do not always have sharp minds." He gazed at her with a smile and a knowing gleam in his eye, deep wells of resting power in his visage, before giving a pointed look back at Ricochet. He was certain that no good would come with this young stallion whose head seemed to lack any sense of craft. He himself had been a reckless brute at that age, but it didn't seem that this one was going to outgrow his weak streak. Shields of insults were no strength; one day the young one would find out.
|
| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK |
| Blu |
Though Ricochet wished not to take his eyes of the only remotely attractive individual here, the perfectly normal equine mare and the dark glints he would occasionally catch in her expression, he could not easily ignore the grating voice of the pegasus and the implications its words brought.
The tension bristling between them thickened the air and set Ricochet to a heavy snort. Black, glittering dust fell from his muzzle, flitting into small bursts of insignificant flame before it ever reached the ground. The sooty powder was always nestled in the crevices of his body, more of an unavoidable trait of working with the fine particles than a useful reserve. With all the snow already covering the land and the frost hardening the earth, he would soon be without the fiery accent however, so what little remained on or in his body was eventually utilized.
The flaming snort was no mishap, but a clearly defined message. Do not ignite what you do not wish to burn. Ricochet would be more than happy to crush the arrogance and the wings of this pegasus on the battlefield.
Though Leander had a point to his otherwise pathetic insult. Ricochet would rather not boast of the Foothills. He did not relish them and certainly did not love them, not so long as it was tainted with the hooves of unicorns and pegasus across its ground. "I only reserve my speech of the land, because the terrain is of little importance. Beauty can be found in many places and territories can be lost in many more. A herd is not its scenery, a herd is it's members." Ricochet truly believed in that. He'd argued with Evangeline over something similar when they'd be young. He'd known the loss of his home, on far too many occasions, and yet he was content to thrive anew in this land because his family managed to live here. It was to them and to equines mares like Insanity that he would happily speak of. Unfortunately the Foothills herd had little in the way of that, so he was loath to go into much detail, lest his disgust show through his voice. "I hoped to represent the fine company that you would find there."
Although, the land was better than the Throat's.
The mare seemed to shift in discomfort under their lengthy words however and Ricochet found his maw sealing shut. Teal eyes now settled firmly on her, withers jutting out at the pegasus instead. She spoke hintingly to him of her desires, and yet they were painfully absent of anything meaningful, just a promise. He would hold onto that promise.
"Of course. I look forward to such a meeting..." He responded in a low voice to her, teal eyes as alight as his magic as he set them to burn against her expression.
Her next words proved curious to Ricochet as she professed not only wishing to visit both lands but lack of practice in choosing in this manner. He thought the choice to visit both a boringly safe one and an unnecessary waste of time and muscle, but he would not speak so outright against her decision. The knowledge that her previous realm did not invest such powers in mares sent Ricochet's features lifting with surprise. He had always known mares to be awfully willed creatures that not only stood up to stallions but frequently beside them. It was a characteristic he had not always agreed with, knowing them to be physically weaker, yet he saw the worth of their minds which were devious and crafty as ever. If not equals, mares certainly deserved hooffuls of respect.
So he respected her with an inclination of his head to his chest. A small gesture of acceptance and humbleness, a unique thing from a stallion such as he. "If it is such that you will it, I would be happy to escort you through the lands of the Foothills, and the rest of Helovia should you so desire. Perhaps even a more exclusive location... I'd enjoy to know more of a home that does not deliver such choices upon mares. It is wholly different here and I suspect the culture may take some, adjustment."
|
"Or, should you wish, you can reside in the wilds with me and other mares of such beauty and grace, such as found within yourself," A rich, lilting voice filled with chords of content and an undertone of contempt broke the lingering silence between the three horses. "We are, after all, sisters by nature. We argue and fight, but in the end, we uphold our honor and keep our wits about us." The white unicorn lifted her head, a silver coat of satin rippling over chiseled muscles. Gray nostrils flare, bright blue eyes thoughtfully study the group of mixed horses before me. The poor mare, surrounded by a group of dumb brutes called stallions. Stags, colts- all the same to me. I'm sexist, I will admit, and racist, but I have and will continue to try and change my ways from racism. Sexism? Perhaps not. Maybe one day I will find a stallion of unerring loyalty, who would give his life for the oldest mare, and respect the mares' rule. But until then... I allow a smile to curl my lips, even as I shoot a haughty glance to the inferior males. "We roam as we please, sleep where our feet take us, and are free to do as we chose. Except for an ask of understanding between us mares, I would have no wish to order you around." Words spoken true always strike the strongest chord in a heart. I tilt my head, my pearl horn glistening in the light.
Tell me would you kill to save a life?
The cool air was welcome now as tensions grew and heat eclipsed each creature with a fiery need. For Leander, mentions of home lit arrogance in his throat and brought pride to the golden spheres decorating his massive skull. For Ricochet, unnamed desires coated his chords with tender cajolery and wracked his body with anxious contempt. The mare had bitten her tongue, bitter and abashed by both queries; her eyes wild with fascination and curiosity. For every word uttered came the cruelest of satisfaction for the shade, her frozen heart beating for conflict with no real desire for resolution. If any real knowledge had crossed her mind after entertaining the two beasts for what seemed an eternity, she was certainly aware of the obvious difference between species. This was one of the deciding factors that the little shadowed sinner had considered as default, Equine or Pegasus. Her basic nature spoke to the realistic norms of all she had ever known and Ricochet, however presuming, had taken this advantage.
“Wise is such a common term to refer to in such a predicament, considering the wide berth of meaning behind such a word. What should or could be wise to you could prove otherwise to myself.” Her tongue was sharp with an acrid taste of cool derision because she was growing tired of attending such a mediocre conversation about worth and privilege. Bring forth the flames of hell and she would happily reside if no such banter were present. Her attention was momentarily swollen with newly piqued interest as the younger male began to rattle once more. She could barely comprehend his words though because she was now enthralled with his youthful allure. Perhaps she was tainted with thoughts of disillusionment, but as social order would reveal, appearances were enough to sway an unkempt ardor in such a wolfish creature. “I think I’ve heard quite enough about the victories of the Throat and the lack of such in the Foothills. I’m quite tempted by your offer sweet Leander, but I fear I’ve no compassion for your likes.”
She was about to commit to more woeful apologies when she was interrupted by yet another unintended guest. Her eyes had grown with surprise and her lips tightened with irritation at the thought of prolonging such a situation. She was growing weary and annoyed, her shoulders moving forward in defense as the mare joined the trio. She was a pale adaptation of Insanity herself, a small creature dwarfed by the two beasts in a way that made her appear inferior. However, her tones were rapt with pure disdain and perhaps a bit of arrogance in the way that she addressed her raven counterpart. Insanity had reacted as any ill-natured mortal could, her features laden with amusement and disregard. “My dear, I find solace in the company of the dominant sex. Aside from your bold approach, I find that your company here is not valued. But this does not exempt me from appreciating your attuned interest in the sisterhood of the gender. Do not misinterpret my advance as insolence, but mere accustomed habit, too ingrained to reverse so late in life.”
She regretted her brash approach but her nerves had been touched with electric impatience. She was anxious to free herself of such emotion and leave the Threshold for bigger and better beginnings. Her voice boiled in her gut now, once again faced with the former continuation of debate with the two males. Her lips were dry and tight, her eyes strained with weary irrelevance to prior perceptions of herself. No longer did she wish to please anyone other than her saintly aspirations and with mild aggression spoke to the young stallion. “If you should so wish my company, then you should escort me to the Foothills, no doubt some form of inauguration will await us and I find I am eager to be rid of such frozen climates.” The smile that graced her lips was maddening, almost sickening in the way that she invited him to her side. “I’d be more than obliging to enlighten you on the concepts of my prior residence, if you should so truly desire, though your interest may only be piqued by the competitive nature of your sex.”
No matter her harsh words, she knew that the young equine would be satisfied with her response. Away from the Threshold she would follow him, curious to the company he should provide. She tossed her head, eager to rid the growing sense of cold that now overwhelmed her aging bones. “Lead the way.” She was growing partial to this Ricochet and she only hoped that he had kept her interests in mind when suggesting she take refuge in the Foothills. The sinner was ready to accept her dark fate, all preconceptions aside.
"!!"
Ooc; Sorry guys, I was trying to finish up before I had to work all weekend. :/ I hope this was okay.
|
| Deceased |
| Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK |
| Blu |
[short and sweet~ Posting for you in the Foothills Insanity.]
Ricochet could not help the smugness that settled on his features as the mare denied Leander and leaned towards his proposal. Sly as a dog he slid his teal gaze to the ruffled pegasus, more than content to watch the other fail.
Yet Ricochet had not won her easily, if her still sharp tongue was anything to judge by. The abrupt intrusion of the amazon mare, a poorly misguided and ugly creature, Ricochet thought almost with pity, might have proved more difficult if Insanity had proved more patient. For that Ricochet could thank the mare's intolerance of their blather, she might take after his own heart with such impatience.
"Let's be rid of this cold then..." Ricochet murmured to her as she asked him to lead, a position he was more than willing to take. More or less ignoring the other two, completely insignificant individuals to him now, Ricochet kept her on his left shoulder and stepped with the buffeting height of one awarded a victory. Though he wore no blood from this battle, he'd fought all the same.
As they began their travel to the Foothills Ricochet inclined his head to the mare, ready to provide conversation to pass the time as they walked.
|
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
