the Rift


[OPEN] Corsicana Lemonade

Skyfall Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#1
SKYFALL



His face was buried in the various flowers that had sprung up within the meadow, their long stems reaching up to brush at his belly and tickle his chest. A giggle would rise up from the lithe form here and there as he wandered about, his course leaving wide swaths of grasses and blossoms laying flat upon the earth. Lowering his head so that his lips hovered carefully over the swaying grasses, the bloodied stallion huffed and puffed and delighted himself in the blooms and bumbles beneath his nose.

It didn't occur to him that he was lost, that he may not be able to find his way back to his home later that day; he was too concerned with the wind brushing through his locks, with the sweltering sunshine singing golden lullabies for him to hum along to, with the glory and beauty of it all.

Up here in this heaven-drenched field, the stallion didn't mind the loss of direction one bit.

Every once in awhile, he would part his lips and practically inhale a mouthful of blossoms, grunting his approval all the while. Nosing his way past a particularly cranky looking primrose bundle, the spindly stallion found himself standing beneath the slight shade cast by a particularly stunted tree. Tilting his head, careful not to let the twisted branches snag on his arched horns, Skyfall harrumphed cheerily at the scraggly thing, "You look like me after a night out."

Seanan Posts: 44
Outcast atk: 8.0 | def: 10.0 | dam: 2.0
Stallion :: Equine :: 17 :: 9 HP: 60.0 | Buff: NOVICE
Rien
#2
Seanan didn't have to think very hard to understand why he continued to return to the alpine field so high above Helovia.  First he had met a kind girl here, sweet and fragile.  Then he had battled a titan under the unbridled fury of a storm.  Today, he wandered there because it was close to the sun and it was open.  The fact that it also happened to be far from the typical lurking grounds of the Unbound made it pointedly more ideal for his purposes.  Though not one to actively seek solitude, he needed to run and the disagreement had him keyed up.  He wondered in the back of his mind if Ashamin was truly fit to orchestrate such a network as the Unbound.  Though technically there was not yet a hierarchy, the white stallion couldn't help but think of Ashamin in a leadership role.  It was he, after all, who founded their motley band.

As soon as he crested the rocky edge, the gaunt framed steed stretched out his legs.  He exploded off the edge, rocks flinging from his back hooves as he let his tightly coiled restraint go.  He flew.  Like a cloud stretched thin by a swift, high wind.  He barely felt the impact of his hooves on the ground, cushioned by soft grass and wild flowers.  His mind fell into the pleasant quiet that he strove for, as if the wind whisked everything away leaving little room for anything but movement.

The white stallion's body leaned, curving in a wide bank without losing much of his speed.  Gradually he spiraled tighter and tighter.  His long body and gangly limbs were not so agile that he could maintain his speed through such a movement- he was forced to begin pulling in his strides to avoid clipping himself on his own hooves.  His eyes were near closed in concentration as he felt the pleasant strain of muscle from the unfamiliar movement. He asked his body for more, to stretch more, bend tighter.  

Then, more abruptly than his spiral had begun, he twisted the other way and broke free of the tight circle.  His heels flicked high above his head, head dropping and back arching with the movement that did not have the focused power that it needed for battle.  This was something different.  Something more akin to play if he were still one to do such things.  Kicking and bucking, he scribed another wide circle before he slowed to a walk.  Sweat did not appreciably darken his color, only gave it the appearance of slickness.  

Finally, with something like reluctance, the desert born equine came to halt.  While not appreciably winded, his muscles felt pleasantly warm and used.  Blood was singing in his ears and he felt as though he radiated the sun's warmth back into the sky.  Cleansed of outrage, cleansed of irritation.  Cleansed of memory.

And then a splash of red caught his eyes beneath the shade of a lone twisted tree, and Seanan realized he wasn't as alone as he thought he'd been.  The stallion's expressive ears briefly splay sideways, posture abruptly assuming an awkward stance like a colt caught at mischief, somewhere between surprised and abashed.

@Skyfall
All interactions are go, short of death and permanent crippling.


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