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11-13-2012, 05:02 PM
Another. And another. And, finally, another. My kind. I smirk, already forming my words in my creative mind. "Why, hello." Then I decide to take the stallions for a bit of a test. "Hi. I assume you two must be from the Throat?" I spread my thick, feathery white wings, and shake the frost off of them, as I must do now and then, for my wings don't circulate much heat. Let's see how this goes. Might find myself a new home. I remember my old home. Or at least the one that raised me. It was not the most enticing place, although it was packed full of sprinting room. I call back the memories of racing my other friends. This place was not the most organized, so we had unicorns, pegisus, hybrids, and a few plain excess wild horses. It was how we were. At first, they struggled to keep me alive without any of my mother's milk. Then, I became strong, tough. I could race any foal or grown mare or stallion. I would win.
I wince at the thought of the comfort, and can't believe myself, being here. There were matured ones, too. Why was I not there with them, raising the outcroppings of various herds? I will never have time to dwell on that. As you can see, I am not the most concentrated of the gang. Now, my vision comes to the present and I notice the others again, startling myself. Then comes the new stallion, sand gold, black wings and points. But all of this is only in a glance, for, like always, my inky orbs focus on his. Like the sun. Stunning. Then comes the sound from his strong-looking chest that makes up words: "Welcome to Helovia. I am Leander, and this is my friend, Lynx. We hail from the Dragon's Throat herd."
I take a moment longer to ponder over wether or not to question him. Yes. "Do you need a recruit?" I hope that my conversing with my own kind offends the flaxen-maned unicorn. Well, you get the point. I can be confusing. One minute, saying any brute may leave me with quite a purpose never to come again, next, canvassing with a few as if I were perfectly comfortable. I really am not, just a bit on guard. There is always a method to my madness.
I wince at the thought of the comfort, and can't believe myself, being here. There were matured ones, too. Why was I not there with them, raising the outcroppings of various herds? I will never have time to dwell on that. As you can see, I am not the most concentrated of the gang. Now, my vision comes to the present and I notice the others again, startling myself. Then comes the new stallion, sand gold, black wings and points. But all of this is only in a glance, for, like always, my inky orbs focus on his. Like the sun. Stunning. Then comes the sound from his strong-looking chest that makes up words: "Welcome to Helovia. I am Leander, and this is my friend, Lynx. We hail from the Dragon's Throat herd."
I take a moment longer to ponder over wether or not to question him. Yes. "Do you need a recruit?" I hope that my conversing with my own kind offends the flaxen-maned unicorn. Well, you get the point. I can be confusing. One minute, saying any brute may leave me with quite a purpose never to come again, next, canvassing with a few as if I were perfectly comfortable. I really am not, just a bit on guard. There is always a method to my madness.
