the Rift


Light in the Dark

Dalila Ebonique Posts: N/A
Unregistered
:: :: ::
#1
walk walk walk
"talk talk talk"
think think think

Dalila Ebonique. Gentle Black. Aptly named was this mare, seeing as she was both gentle and black. However, there was a mean side to her; a side not many saw. This mare was a rather beautiful ebony equine, with stunning bi-color eyes. One a deep ocean blue, and the other a deep amber. Pretty little mare, she was, with long, elegant legs that could move swiftly over the land still, though she was getting on in years. Not far off till you're dead, old one. The snide thought slammed into her, making her pace falter. I'm only ten. She thought to herself quietly. No need to be alarmed by thoughts of mortality. Living in the here and now was what she liked to do best... She wondered if there was a stallion around. It had been five years since she had last had company, five years since she last bedded a stallion. She was lonely; she wouldn't mind a one night stand. In fact, that's all she desired. She did not want any more than that, no strings attached to it. Sighing, the graceful mare kept trotting gracefully on, over the snow and hills.

Perhaps she'd meet a stallion, perhaps she wouldn't. Honestly, it didn't matter to her. She came to a fluid stop and bent her neck to drink from a pool of clear water. She raised her head again and continued her swift, graceful movements over the terra, hips swaying in an undeniably feminine movement. No stallion could copy the way she moved, with her hips rocking steadily, and her legs pulling high to her chest and then hitting the snow silently. Black hooves, black bodice, black mane and tail... All the colors of this mare were deep and rich, seeming a little unreal. A few things ruined this pretty picture, though. The long, ugly scar running from her left ear to the right side of her muzzle was one of them. Another was the scar on her flank, and the last was the scar across her delicate chest. Fighting with unicorns wasn't the greatest idea, and in her defense, she hadn't provoked the stallion in the least. He'd simply attacked her for no reason. 'Course, it was only a year later that she learned he attacked mares to weaken them before he took what he wanted from them. Good thing I pushed him off of a cliff, then, huh? She thought, shaking her head at herself. She'd not enjoyed the violence in the least. All she wanted right then was a peaceful night, perhaps with company, a warm body against her own, in a small little place they could stay for the night, keeping warm against the cold outside.

She paused under a large willow that looked about ready to fall over, poor thing. Her ebony form was willowy, like the tree's hanging branches that touched the ground around her. Elegant, graceful... But certainly not a prize-winning beauty as she'd been in her youth. The scars had seen to that. Four years she'd had the damned things... Four years she'd been shunned because of them. Why? Did they make her any less of an equine than one who did not have them?


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