| Aurora Basin Thief atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 5 |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.3 :: 5 years HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Reli |
I could show you incredible things (magic, madness, heaven, sin) Through long, luscious hair, the wind sings, playing with the silky tresses as they dance against the mare’s slender neck. The jewelry she wears chimes softly, fastened among dark locks as the skinny threads of gold catch the sun’s light, glistening beautifully between the rosy flowers. Stretched out wide from her sides, the mare’s wings catch the breezes from the rapids below, holding her upon air currents that are quickly growing warmer with the imminent approach of summer.
Humming with pleasure as the warmth bathes her slender back, the pegasus closes her eyes, long lashes kissing the fine definition of her cheekbones.
Suddenly, the svelte line of her body arches, and bringing in her wings to hug her shoulders, the vixen is sent plummeting downwards. Where she initially circles in a wide spiral, Imogen tightens the angle of her body, straightening her path to a steady shot directly for the fertile land below. The ground rushes quickly towards her—dangerous, solid, and deadly—but the pegasus can only offer a sly, excitable smile.
Adrenaline surges deliciously through her veins. Soaking in the high of hormones, Imogen feels the hair on the back of her neck rise, sending a prickling shiver through her muscles. Still plunging through the crisp, spring air, she dives below the level of the Fall’s crumbled mountain range, plummeting until she can feel the mist of the waterfalls tickling her ears. Only then does she open her wings again, snapping them out with such force that the muscles in her shoulders strain painfully (deliciously) against the mighty force of her descent.
With the wind whistling through her primary feathers, the vixen alights along a grassy hillock, jogging several strides before she is able to draw to a complete halt.
Shaking out her wind-blown tresses, Imogen breathes heavily, feeling the irregular lub, dub-dub of her heartbeat against her ribs as it ushers the final taste of adrenaline through her body. A short moment of dizziness rises, but more than used to the sickly-sweet taste of danger (and its consequences), Imogen is able to brush past it quickly. Releasing a satisfied, breathy snort, she raises her head to the heavens.
“Speech.”
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@Manon
please tag Imogen in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.
| World's Edge Sleuth atk: 6.5 | def: 9.5 | dam: 3.5 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 16.3hh :: 4 HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Space |
02-23-2017, 10:42 PM
(This post was last modified: 02-24-2017, 12:22 AM by Manon.)
![[Image: 30kwumh.jpg]](http://i68.tinypic.com/30kwumh.jpg)
The sound of the falls was almost overwhelming, a dull roar that preceded it's presence for over a mile. Her delicate ears picked up the sound of it and quickly blocked it out, preferring the sound of her dainty hooves on rock and grass - a musical affair, her legs dancing to a tune of grace and elegance. She wasn't often in the Edge these days, for she preferred silence to the hustle and bustle of a herd and it's daily workings - or perhaps it was that she despised superiority, and found her lip curling on more than one occasion. It was not that she disliked the idea of hierarchy, for she considered herself quite capable of a queenly position, but that she was quite bored of the seemingly uneventful day to day routine provided by their King and Queen. Peace simply was not entertaining enough. Tembovu and Alysanne were probably proud of their long-reigning peace (and why shouldn't they be?), but all Manon found herself longing for was challenge and maybe just a little bit of chaos.
Her step was certain and sure, balanced with chic grace upon every movement - she wouldn't have fallen even in the most dire of circumstances, her small knotted muscles hard and prepared thanks to her tireless training regime. She watches the sky, opalescent eyes following the flight of a nimble roan shadow from beneath her silver lashes. The woman (as it was clear to see, now that she was still) alighted upon a soft grass knoll, shaking the air from her broad wings and gazing skyward. Manon watched her with a critical eye, scanning from head to toe and finding (with a confused sensation of pleasure) that she was stunning, elegant and altogether beautiful. The lines of her body were clean and sculpted, her eyes large and glossy - she and Manon could have been related, had the stranger been ever so slightly sharper. Instead, she beheld delicate feminine curves - something Manon severely lacked. This did not perturb her, however, as she approached with tasteful petite steps.
"Hail, lovely stranger.”
She began, a soft husky purr.
@Imogen can't wait for bitchiness!! also gotta love that t-swizzle!
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stock image
please tag Manon in all posts
Force & Magic allowed short of permanent maiming & death
| Aurora Basin Thief atk: 4.5 | def: 9.0 | dam: 5 |
| Mare :: Pegasus :: 14.3 :: 5 years HP: 60 | Buff: NOVICE |
| Reli |
I could show you incredible things (magic, madness, heaven, sin) “Hail, lovely stranger.”
The voice slides like silk through the crisp air, snagging at the winged woman’s attention like a gossamer curtain, persistent and yet—somehow—distinctly intimate.
She does not move, at first. Her smoky features remain basking beneath the heavens and her eyes remain closed, long lashes kissing the fine line of her cheekbones in a way many stallions would envy (and she has certainly left many men coveting). A dark-rimmed ear listens while the other approaches, noting the delicate way that the stranger moves, so exquisite that the grass seems wary to rustle in her wake.
With her curiosity satisfyingly aroused, Imogen finally appraises her visitor. And so, with a turn of her head that shakes the thick cascades of her dark hair and leaves her golden jewelry chiming (all accompanied by the fresh fragrance of roses, which wafts from the slender curve of her neck), the pegasus’ piercing eyes rest on the taller woman with unabashed confidence. “Lovely might be a bit premature…but you’ll learn,” she purrs in response, one side of her brow rising with the promise of mischief.
Slinking closer to the equine (as beady eyes have already carefully inspected the woman’s plain forehead with pleasure), Imogen effectively closes the last bit of distance between them.
“You’re not so bad yourself, darling,” she hums softly, her smoky lips curling into something between a sneer and a smile, while her black eyes dance with empty promises and perplexing enigmas. Swinging her hips, she moves in a circle around the stranger, aware of how every part of her body moves, calculating each step. “What do I call you?” She asks with a flutter of long lashes, reaching out to brush the other mare’s flank with the tip her feathered wing before she moves away, allowing cold air to rush in where their body heat had played together.
notes; I'm sorry this took a million years! ;-;
“Speech.”
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@Manon
please tag Imogen in all replies!
magic & force are permitted.
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