the Rift


Nebun. [OPEN/Joining with Veneria :D]

Verenia Rinta Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#1

"Nebun. Singur. Nebun..." The small creature murmured, not expecting any soul to hear. Lonely and crazy, that was the story of life.
"Singur. Nebun. Singur..." A sad tone filled the creature's voice. Why? Why did this happen? Did the creature deserve to be alone just because the creature killed someone?
Maybe it was an accident. Who knows? The creature growled. Cranium thought he knew. He knew everything, just because he was the leader. If only the creature have had the chance to poison him, if only...

A sound made the creature stop, only to realize it was a branch that had been parted by one of the grey front hooves.
"Ma innebunesti. Ma inebunesc..." The sound of her voice made her feel safe, but the spirits that circled around her made her uncomfortable at the same time.
She was crazy. The little creature was crazy.

The grey hair in the creature's mane and tail moved slightly by the wind in the forest, making her look even more crazy than she already was. She was female, always had been. No one ever doubted that.
But she knew - she knew - that a few in the herd had doubted that she was real. That she was an equine, just like them. Her mother never doubted.
No, no... Her mother was the only one that believed her when she said that the spirits haunted her. Her mother had been the only sane one in the herd of craziness.

The forest around the creature scared her. She had never seen so much green in one spot. Only black, dead.
Her dual colored eyes glanced around her, checking for dangers. So much dangers on this journey. So much pain. Did she deserve so much pain? A lonely, crazy creature like her.
She was a freak. She knew it. They knew it. The mare stared at the spirits around her. They knew that she was a freak. They'd always known.
Why didn't they leave her alone? Why? Couldn't someone sane save her from this world of craziness?

Word count: 342
OOC: She speaks mostly Romanian - and expect very bad English xP

Walk, walk, walk.
"Talk, talk, talk."
'Think, think, think.'


Code generated by Tintedglass Layout Generator

Cyrus Posts: 20
Up For Adoption
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 3 Years Buff: NOVICE
Semper
#2

 Cyrus</style>

 When it was dark, you always carried the sun in your hand for me.

</style>

Frostfall had taken a harsh turn on everything green and vibrant, it sucked life like a crawling blood leech whose only determination was to rid the world of warmth and freedom. There were no fresh tendrils to sweep away exposed dirt. Cyrus found many things not to like about Frostfall, but the most predominant in his mind was the simple fact that everything was so cold and still. Trees no longer found a growth spurt to the heavens - instead their bark cracked and screeched in agony as the cold bit into their sap. Food was becoming more and more sparse as snow devoured their sweet smell. Orangemoon had already made flourishing blades dull as a sick foal and yellow like amber fossils. They were hardly nutritious and the sun boy could only stare in defiance as the cold consumed his fire.

His mother, Evangeline had once told him of a place in the land called Isilme where all equines could roam at their own freedom as dragons soared freely above the richest grass alive. It was a mere heaven, and it would stayed locked in the time between spring and summer always. If one was desperately hungry and in need of warmth and true shelter from the terrible winds of winter, they would seek refuge to graze the plentiful grasses of Eterna. How he wished that heaven was to his avail. Cyrus snorted a frosty breath out into the spacious blizzard. Oh how it threatened to chill the breath of life and his lungs as he inhaled. This winter season was as disgusting as the love between his two parents.

The Threshold greeted him with a somber posture. The trees were fully exposed, stripped naked by the harmful air and the gray clouds that locked away the sun. Their bodies were not only emaciated but knotted - recoiling from the shadows like orphans. Cyrus wished he could breathe warm life into every one of them, but mortality hindered him and everyone else it seemed.

His red coat stood out amongst the bare white as he walked. He was unmarked and untouched by white through his entire body except for the strands of mane and tail. They whisked behind him as the winter breezes sang mournfully. The young stallion kept his teal eyes in search for any. This was his first trip to the Threshold, and if he wanted to prove himself to his herd than this would be the first place to start.

His teal eyes did finally catch a glimpse of something. Something curled up in the snow's clutch. He first saw her coat, a wad of copper fuzz in the distance. She appeared so sad so tired there. Her movements were slow like a struggle. 'Is she injured,' the boy's thoughts were swirling now, half excited and half worried. He didn't know what to do if she was hurt. He could drag her back to the Foothills and hope that one of the scholarly hippies knew something about illness. His pace picked up, and soon he awkwardly loomed over her bodice that squirmed and moaned in a foreign tongue. He decided to speak slowly. "Are you hurt?" He didn't see any gashes or incisions. Maybe she was just ill. He nudged her with his inky muzzle. "Come on now, get up."

image by I Am Not I @ flickr.com</style>


In all Chaos
There is Calculation
please tag cyrus


Verenia Rinta Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#3

The illusion of green disappeared for her eyes, replacing it with a sight of nothing. White. Naked trees.
What was this place? The creature widened her eyes for the sight and laid down. She was crazy. Crazy.
A sound made her look around in fright, afraid that one of the spirits had gained a body. It was here to mock her, make fun of her. Call her a freak.
Yes, that had to be it. A spirit that was going to bully her. As always.

The spirits always bullied her. She looked up on the naked trees. Why did the sight of green disappear? She liked it. Everything she likes goes away. Even her amulet had disappeared on her way here.
The sound became louder, loud in her reddish colored ears. Her two orbs were looking straight towards where the sound of movement came form; Her heart beating faster with each step.
But it wasn't a spirit. Or maybe? It was red, bigger than her, with white hair. Was it a spirit? A blood spirit, who knew?
The thing came closer, she became more certain that it was a spirit. It looked like it. All red in this white scape.
"Are you hurt?"

The creature stopped breathing. She stared at the thing with her dual colored eyes. Spirits didn't make such noises. Not with their mouths. They said it inside her head. But what did the thing say?
She knew the language it spoke, but hadn't trained her abilities to speak it for years. The creature cleared it's throat, and tried her best.
"Not hurt. Spirits. Haunt...Ed." She didn't know if he would understand her. The deep accent of her native language influenced the words slightly and made them sound stuttering.

He touched her. The creature jumped, moving slightly away from the thing.
Another throw with words. Who was this thing? Why did it speak to her? Why had it approached her? Why did it touch her?
No one ever did. Everyone stayed away. The small creature stared at it's mouth as it spoke again, without any problems.
"Come on now, get up." Get... Up? The creature looked up towards the thing. It looked younger than her.
Why get up? She would love to stay here in this comfy, lush gra.... No. It was white. Not grass. The creature mumbled once again.
"Ma innebunesc..."

But the spirits had disappeared for the moment, probably because of this thing in front of her. She moved her legs and got up from the illusion of warmth, and then stared at the thing.
He looked like an equine, but she didn't recognize his colors. Red and white. She only knew red and black.
Red and black... Her mother. Her mother had been red and black.
She turned her head away from the thing, and stared at it with her white colored eye.
"Cine ești..." She figured halfway through the question that it would not understand her, since it had used the other language. The creature cleared her throat, and tried again.
"Who you?"

Word count: 511
OOC: -

Walk, walk, walk.
"Talk, talk, talk."
'Think, think, think.'


Code generated by Tintedglass Layout Generator

Ricochet the Incendiary Posts: 133
Deceased
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK
Blu
#4


[Ina, please be patient ^^ it hasn't been long at all since your replies. If you truly want to post more with this particular character why not make her an outcast for now and join other threads?]

Hooves move with a casual grace over the snow laden ground. It's the slow, leisurely step of one well acquainted with this area, as he had become of late. The Threshold seemed more his herd land than the Foothills. At least here he could find the company he sought, the faces he loved.

Perhaps if he had spent more time in his true herd he would have recognized the individual hovering over the fallen girl. He would have known him to be the boy of his foalhood passions and naivete, would have known him to be spawned from the loin's of the unicorn that seemed better fit to capture her heart than he.

As it was Ricochet only saw two equines. Two lovely, perfect, equines.

His pace retained its strolling effect as he drew upon them. There was no need to hurry even if his blood had risen to an excited roar in his ears as his pulse quickened in the fervent joy to behold and possibly have this pair. He could not appear too eager, such a demonstration would equally tell of how he was lacking. They must believe in him and to succeed in that he would need to be strong, capable, nonchalant. Luckily Ricochet has never been in want of confidence.

He pulled alongside the young stallion as if they were old friends. Anyone without the ugly horn stabbing through their skull or the bird's legs splitting from their shoulders was an immediate and long lasting friend to the dunskin. Ears twitched forward, catching the tail end of the boy's words and the mumbling chaos of the girl's language. Curious, at first appraisal Ricochet had thought them travel companions but now it seems he'd stepped up only moments too late to witness their initial encounter. Perhaps this would make it easier to cajole them then - they would not be dependent on each other for safety or decision making.

Ricochet exhaled steam. "Only the weak and the dying sit in cold's teeth for so long mare," Ricochet's voice is an impassive drawl, as if he were commenting on weather and not the inevitable plague winter would grace the peculiar girl with. Her question went unanswered for the mean time, he knew she directed it not at him originally. "I don't think you are weak and dying," he tilted his head, as if to give his teal eyes a better look at her, "or are you?" If she was injured he saw it no better than Cyrus, but wounds of the mind and heart are never easy to see, not at first. They bleed into every action and scab over every word instead, and it is not for a time that you realize the red walk and the mottled talk are not normal, but infections come from hurt and despair.

Gaze drifted to the boy at his left side, curious as to what he would prove to be, but the matter at hoof was the mare and she soon begged his focus back upon her. "With two of us we could lift her," Ricochet murmured to Cyrus, though his gaze stared down at her. "Or dig her a grave."

He shrugged his shoulders.

Truthfully he hoped his constant talk of demise would rouse her to prove him wrong. Mares were often willful creatures that did not appreciate being told about themselves, much less incorrectly, and least of all from a stallion.

R I C O C H E T - -
blam, you're dead


Custodio Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#5

Custodio
Embrace The Silence





The stallion silently tread through the forest, which he had arrived in. He had seen forests like this before, but, still this one was different from the others. The trees that once had been green, were now bare, completely exposed to the biting cold. The ground was covered with a white blanket of snow. At home, winter was never bitter, just chilly.
Home. He missed home, even though he was an outcast, never accepted anywhere. He remembered his family, how badly they had tried to help him. Help him to be able to speak. It was a failure.
He would've liked to be able to express himself. But he just wasn't meant to.
The stallions legs started to hurt, from deep inside. He gazed around, looking after a spot to rest at. But what caught his wasn't what he was searching for. It was something else.
He saw shapes move behind the trees. What were they?
He took himself closer, careful not to draw attention to himself.
His ears could hear voices. The shapes now looked more familiar . There were three of them, equines. They seemed to have a conversation, but he couldn't figure out what they were talking about, but he really didn't care.
The stallion was mostly thrilled over the fact that he had found others of his kind.
Now, there was one question left. Should he approach them, or let them be?


"OOC: This is Custodio's joining post x3 And no, I don't have marvelous grammar."





Svetlana Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#6


SVETLANA
shadow kissed
moonlight dipped
oh so fine, oh so noble



The princess among horses. Well, not really, but Svetlana lands with black wings a-flutter, pride sharp in her dark gaze, ebony feathers closing shut. So many equines! A mare, a stallion, another stallion... yet another stallion. Let me even out the odds. I step lightly, obsidian hooves crushing the snow, white flakes drifting onto my cheeks. The mare lies down. I can see it in her eyes, the grip of the demons on her wary mind. Misfortune must hang around her, as it does and did for me. Alas, at least I escape the dark shadows during the winter. Only during Birdsong does it truly grip me in its vice, locking teeth into me like the wolf to the hare.

Sanity. Those who have it do not understand a mere sentence of insanity, the pain and the rage and the confusion it creates in a second. Insanity, the bane to all equines. I pick up a trot, ending beside the mare keeled over. I drop to my knees willingly, lying beside her. One raven wing folds over the mare, warming her from the winter's frosty embrace. "Keep the grip of sanity. Fight the demons with all your strength. Please mare, stay your mind. I am a friend." My words are very soft, breathed into her ears. My behavior, as strange and crazy as it makes me seem to those of untouched minds, will help her, I hope.

"blah blah blah."




Pebble Eye Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#7
Hooves of ink softly trudged through the snow, leaving behind prints of white rather than a matching ebony. Sliding upward from the ground, trailing over legs of matching hues of pitch and suddenly a shift in color to one similar to that of warm sunlight, a weary mare was made known as she kept her limbs beneath her wide-ribbed diaphragm moving at a steady pace. Unfortunately for her, that pace that she was trying so hard to keep set was slowly dwindling down, and soon enough she was going to find herself at a standstill beneath the falling flakes of frozen water. It was nearly pointless for her to keep moving at such a rate, anyways. It's not like she knew where she was, where she was going. No, Pebble Eye wasn't exactly sure what this place was. She just knew that somehow she had ended up in this freezing mass of trees, and that she had no clue how to get out.

Tendrils of opaque white whistled out from inside her wide nostrils as she continued on. Again, it occurred to her that there was really no reason for her to be traveling like this. Honestly, it felt as if she was simply going in circles, being surrounded by trees for so long. It was becoming routine, looking down and seeing white, looking up and seeing white with hints of brown peeking out from behind, looking everywhere and seeing white. It all looked the same. Progress? Was she making progress? Who knew. In a place like this, it seemed as if progress was more than simply in arm's reach. A sigh of frustration escaped her lungs as she flicked her tail irritably. This was pointless, this was pointless, this was- Hold up. Pebble Eye stopped dead in her tracks, black-tipped ears swiveling forward as she let her odd eyes scan over her new discovery. The pegasus was relieved, if anything, to have found this little... Group. Perhaps they would be able to help her.

There was reason to be wary, though. Who knew what these... Oh, how many were there... Pebble Eye quickly counted the number of bodies that were huddled together a distance away from her. Five. There were five in total. Who knew what these five horses were up to. And it appeared that three were stallions, and only two were mares. Apart from that, the entire party consisted of ordinary equines other than one, who just so happened to be a winged-creature like she. The buckskin mare watched them for a second, simply scoping out how they interacted with each other, what the whole situation was. The mares were on the ground, the winged one appearing to comfort the other, while the stallions were looking down upon the two. Curiosity began to burn inside as would a newly kindled fire, and the warmly colored mare began to inch her way closer. Her height was a bit of an issue, although it was one that was easily overlooked. Pebble Eye grew closer to the five others, white residue beginning to build up in her blackened mane and tail as she neared them. After a few steps of surprising confidence, she suddenly paused and looked at them again, wondering if this truly was a good idea or not. If it wasn't, well... It was too late for that now, the pegasus had definitely made herself known.

((Hope you don't mind me jumping in!))

Cyrus Posts: 20
Up For Adoption
Stallion :: Equine :: 16.1 :: 3 Years Buff: NOVICE
Semper
#8

 Cyrus</style>

 When it was dark, you always carried the sun in your hand for me.

</style>

The dark holes of his eyes were hard chasms. They allowed the reflecting snow to crawl in and burn moisture to the surface, and with the wind at winter's aid it did not help the sun-child look any more like a man. It stung like someone sliced his eyes with scissors and water bled to the surface, toppled over his eyelids and stained his skin. Was the boy crying? Of course he wasn't crying. He'd never cry, even if the cold's teeth bit into his eyes (which it did) or extinguished his flame-ridden heart.

Cyrus felt his voice change with Frostfall. This damned cold-creature whom he hated so much, changed everything. All of the other seasons were not this drastic in change. Every season has grass, leaves, birth, and hope. This time of year was the end of all that. A completely new renovation to the world screaming "here's something else for you mortals to endure." Cyrus felt as if the other gods were wailing mockery with this screeching winter. How dare they disrespect the god of the Sun.

The boy removed his muzzle from the mumbling sabino. He shouldn't waste his time recruiting the weak. His brain ticked down quick time and not long after he heard the padding hoofsteps of a stallion fuzzed over with light, buttermilk hairs. Cyan eyes twitched with curiosity as his blackened face appeared to his line of clarity. The entire side of his face was heavily scathed - a burn he guessed. It looked as if liquid lead leaked from the contours of his skin, violating the tissues and color that once laid there, and from that he could tell this stallion was an authoritarian of whatever land he did own (or should own for that matter.) He was strong, and it isn't just me telling you that. Cyrus noticed almost immediately as he brushed up against him, instantly acquainted. It was the bulky helix of impenetrable beef that first settled in the boy's mind. He imagined the fight this stallion could boast. The flaxen couldn't think a way of winning over such an animal, but he sure would like to train with him.

He liked the way he spoke with such wisdom and directness. Cyrus tried that taste on his tongue. "Yes, girl you'll be dead before Frostfall's deposits bury you."

And after that the mare's voice of voodoo drowned his ears in foreign manure. 'What the hell was she saying?' Her voice frightened him. She was obviously sick in some mental state, spitting out a couple words he could actually understand a minute. The gaps between the words were so far that he couldn't piece together the flawed words anyway. He'd forgotten them. He drew back, away from this terrible mare to let her possessed bodice tremble about in the cold. Then she said something he understood. It was a disgusting way to warp his language, but he at least deciphered it. "I am Cyrus of the Foothills. And uh, who you?" He had no idea if she understood that hoarse, slow rasp from the bottom of his slightly boggled mind, but if she did, he guessed it be better than this.

Time seemed not to pass now, and more emerged from the sparse wood. Some were new, and others were hardly familiar. Some part of him wanted to recognize the Pegasus thing, but another part dismissed the thought.

[Sorry, I tried my best to squeeze everyone in here. This post was a matter of fifteen minutes <3]

image by I Am Not I @ flickr.com</style>


In all Chaos
There is Calculation
please tag cyrus


Verenia Rinta Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#9

Invading. Close. Too close. The mare stared at the creatures around her, coming closer and closer. These were not spirits.
They were made of flesh and blood. Like her. The red stallion and another - colored like sand - talked about digging her a grave or leaving her in the cold.
Why?
Oh yeah, she deserved to die. She was crazy. Unwanted. That's right, unwanted.
A black equine in the background tried to participate in the crowd as well, but his silent shadow stayed back there in the woods.

Suddenly, the others came. Two pegasus mares, both fully unknown to the mare just like the stallions. She looked at them - no, stared at them. Why so many? Why around her? Never around her. Always away.
The silver one with black wings layed down beside her, covering the mare's body with one wing. What was she doing?
Was she crazy as well? No one could be crazy. Not like her. The mare. She had almost forgotten her name by now.
"Keep the grip of sanity. Fight the demons with all your strength. Please mare, stay your mind. I am a friend."
The mare slung her head and watched the silver mare.
"S-sanity? D-demons? No demo-o-ons." She couldn't pronounce the words right, thus her stuttering. If only they spoke her language. The language of the lost souls.
"Frie-iend?" A questioning look came over the mare's dual colored eyes, and she laughed.

The laugh she voiced was rasping and dark, coming from the bottom of her throat. Friends? She didn't have friends. She'd never had friends.
"No friends. Alone. Spirrrrits.", the mare mumbled and looked down. Then she turned her gaze towards the buckskin pegasus. She didn't make any noises.
Good.
The mare looked at the red stallion again, as he answered and asked a question.

"I am Cyrus of the Foothills. And uh, who you?"
The mare looked at him. Cyrus... What a strange name. But, these were strange creatures after all. She tried to remember as the red one asked for her name, probably her home as well.
She had no home no more.
"Verenia. Name is Verenia Rinta, birthed in the Valea de vrăjitoare." She couldn't translate the name of the place she had been born in, since she had never learned the true name of her h-home.

No home. There was no such thing as a home.


Word count: 400-ish
OOC: Finally squeezed out a post >.> This will probably be my only one...

Walk, walk, walk.
"Talk, talk, talk."
'Think, think, think.'


Code generated by Tintedglass Layout Generator

Ricochet the Incendiary Posts: 133
Deceased
Stallion :: Equine :: 15.2 hands :: 5 years Buff: BULK
Blu
#10


A lack of passion continued to brim in the eyes of Ricochet as he stared down upon the splotchy mare. He was wondered faintly if he was wasting his time standing here, and thought perhaps to send Guns away to search for someone more useful, but then the boy at his side spoke.

There was a weight to the tones that hummed from his lips that gave Ricochet's head to turn and watch. He was drawn to the stallion at his side in a way he could never be to the mare, too daft and helpless on the ground like that. Yet the boy, he had a sinister molding to the curves of his face and a depth to his eyes that promised intelligence.

Ricochet could certainly use more of that. Madness was already in high enough supply.

Next came the words that shocked the dun - to learn that this potential had been sitting under his nose all this time! He'd been to busy moping about the grassy hills, seeing only horns and wings, that he'd been blind to the preciously normal.

The scared face tilted a smile.

"Ricochet the Incendiary, of the Foothills also," the dun offered by way of introduction.

The dog at his side stirred in the snow, though Ricochet paid him no heed. In a scattering of white powder the furred body had lifted and now it paced the tree line with a soft whine. Amber eyes bored into the trees, aware of a presence yet the senses did not yield its form.

Ricochet was distracted by this distraction as two pegasus arrived, one of which he knew from the Foothills. She ambled up with an authority he didn't think she possessed and kneeled beside the girl with a comforting awkwardness. Ricochet shifted his weight, unimpressed.

Whatever tender words Svetlana had hoped would reach the thick skull of the mare seemed to fail and dim as the splotchy head only seemed to shake with lack of comprehension. Her garbled reply told as much, and though he knew he shouldn't, Ricochet smirked at that. He could not outright show his great dislike of the winged mare sharing his residence, but he could not resist the temptating of reveling in her failures if given the opportunity.

The continued voice of the downed foreigner attracted Ricochet's attention once more. She proffered a name no less stranger than herself. Ricochet cocked an ear at it, unaccustomed to the play of her accent on words so new. It was not altogether unpleasant.

Exhaling a sigh that told of wearing patience Ricochet hoped to address her again. He knew by the broken pattern of her speech and the lilting tenor of her language that he would have to speak short and slow for her to understand. "Verenia. Cold, must stand. Get warm, get healer in Foothills herd. Make better." Ricochet spit out the scattered tones, hoping the meaning was not lost and that some spark of understanding would flare in her confused eyes. Mostly he was wondering if a healer could fix the wrong that seemed to be scattered in her head.

R I C O C H E T - -
blam, you're dead


Custodio Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#11

Custodio
Embrace The Silence





Custodio watched the other equines from his hiding spot. He didn’t know for how long he had been standing there, but surely it had been a while since he spotted these horses. He shivered. Frostfall wasn’t his favorite season, and it would never be. He focused on the others again. There was a dun stallion, which seemed to talk to a mare lying on the ground. He couldn’t hear what they were speaking of, but it looked like the stallion was trying to convince the mare to something. The other horses didn’t seem to be involved too much in the conversation, or Custodio just didn’t notice.
He was not sure if he should approach these unfamiliar faces or not. They did not seem like equines that would hurt him, nor did they seem friendly.
He decided that he hadn’t traveled for so long just to let this chance slip away. He took one step after another, with his heart beating louder and louder, until it was the only thing he could hear. He was scared. Scared of what he would do if something went wrong. He pushed these thought away, and continued to walk against the strangers.

(OOC: This is kinda short, since Ina wanted me to post so badly x3)





Svetlana Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#12


SVETLANA
shadow kissed
moonlight dipped
oh so fine, oh so noble



Mutters. That's all the little mare responds with. Still, she will freeze to death soon unless she comes and heats up, so I close my wing, standing, muscles shifting uncomfortably under my silver coat. Ricochet smirks, flicking his tail, and I can't help but want to bite him. Hard. Stupid stallions. "C'mon. Come with me and Ricochet." I glance worriedly to the stallion. I hope he actually helps! I hope... Verenia Rinta comes. She's imbalanced. She needs help.

"C'mon. You'll freeze if you stay down there." I say again. If I have to drag her back to the Windtossed Foothills as an attempt to keep her safe from the chill, I will. Regardless of her mental sanity, or if she suffers from spirits closing in on her instead of demons, I will help her to the best of my abilities. I'm sure Poppy may be able to find some herbs to maybe help this mare.

"blah blah blah."




Verenia Rinta Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#13

Ricochet. Rrrricoshett.
"Verenia. Cold, must stand. Get warm, get healer in Foothills herd. Make better."
Okay. The mare looked up on the buckskin, upon his scarred face. He seemed okay. Nice. Good.
Verenia sighed and looked at the pegasus on her side. She was standing up now, looking disappointed. What? What had she done?
"C'mon. Come with me and Ricochet."
Okay then. Fine. The small mare pushed her short legs under her body and rose up from the snowy ground. Snow fell off her stomach, though not all of it.
Crap.
Standing up. Finally. Would they shut up now?
Maybe.

The black equine still stood in the background, even though he was a little bit closer than before. Maybe she had to... No. She didn't need to do anything. She didn't have any responsibility. No.
He had to come over to them by himself. But she was uncomfortable with these horses already. She didn't need more.
Verenia lowered her head and looked upon the figures around her. Why were they so close?
"Stand now. Verenia stands up," she spoke, loud and with a confident tone to cover her nervous mind.
The mare's heart hammered in her chest, almost painful.

Spirits surrounded her suddenly, closer than the figures before her were. They came closer and closer, making the mare back away with widened eyes and nostrils. The spirits. Scared her. To death.
Why so close? Why always so CLOSE?
"Spirits. Away. TAKE SPIRITS AWAY." Verenia almost panicked. They had never been so close to her before. Their invisible faces, unknown but still so familiar to her, were right in front of her face, holding eye contact.
Then they were gone.

What? The mare looked around, still scared. Where? Where did the spirits go?
"Spirits. Gone..," she whispered, and calmed down a bit. She took a step closer to the living figures before her.
"Foothills?"


Word count: 313
OOC: I love Verenia <3 she's so insane c:

Walk, walk, walk.
"Talk, talk, talk."
'Think, think, think.'


Code generated by Tintedglass Layout Generator


Forum Jump:


RPGfix Equi-venture