She looked rugged in her winter outfit, her fur sticking out every which way, though somehow Warlock knew how to work it to her advantage. The black mare was indeed a sight to behold, something that would capture the eye with interest and hold it there. She did not see herself a beautiful, she was not a woman to be admired in that sort of sense and yet she didn't seem to realize how she appeared to the opposite sex...or even to the same sex. Beautiful was not a word that one could use on Warlock as her feminine qualities were dashed with one glance at her solid, broad face and thick, muscular body. She was not beautiful, but there was an interesting quality about her. She stood proud and tall, a stance that she never let waver even in the sights of someone with more authority than herself. There was a wicked gleam in her crimson eyes, and a cute little tilt of her ears that made her appear more vulnerable than she would have liked to have known. Her long black hair fell in heavy strands by her fetlocks, it was thick and wavy, the sort of hair any girl would die to own. However, through all these strange and interesting qualities, Warlock would never know how she appeared in front of others. There were long jagged scars stretching across her face, and down her nostrils, a permanent reminder that no one was perfect and she had made a big mistake.
Warlock sighed, her head drooping lower to the ground than she usually allowed it to as she wandered through the Northern forests of Helovia. The trees were barely alive, holding their ground against one of Mother Nature's harsher seasons, though some had given themselves up and shed their coats, leaving a skeletal frame behind. There was snow under her hooves, though it was only a thin layer. 'Why am I feeling so down...?' Warlock thought irritably, her nose scrunching up. It was Winter...so why was she not happy? Gnawing on her lip, the black mare continued to walk through the forest, her strides full of purpose despite her lack of confidence on the inside.
ooc. ick sorry, first posts always suck xD they should get better as they go on <3
| Outcast |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 hh :: 8 Buff: NOVICE |
| Tamme |
RAFE</style>
The coldest blood runs through my veins</style>
The blue eyed demon strode the the forest in which he had once arrived not so long ago, and he still found amusement in the merry band of mercenaries with which he now aligned himself. When they truly began to murder and take plunder for their artwork, he would cease to be amused. Until then, the murderous brute had time, and time was a hateful, loathsome concept that allowed the mind to wander to long and to deep into the darkness that lay within. Perhaps there was something beneath the bodies of armor piled high over his soul, like a red-ledger barricade from within, but he did not dare go through the rubbish to find out.
Time, however, tempted him to start exhuming the heart, and he desperately needed a distraction, a mission, something. Since killing was not a task on the forefront of this place, he would take to recruiting, meeting, discovering and other such useful actions more fit for a spy or knowledge seeker. The tall, bloody stallion shifted across the land with solid hooves and a thick, winter's coat. Four, brutally sharp daggers rose from his brow like a wicked crown, and the apathetic, empty blue eyes gazed at charcoal figure in the distance. By the scent, a mare. Curious.
Well trained and carefully fit muscles slid beneath his crimson fur, and he took in her appearance with all the grace and care of a monster looking for prey. She had long hair, much too long for use. Though his ebony tendrils were not cropped short, they were of a useful length, unlike her own. Perhaps the cumbersome weight was why her face bore such horrid scars.
Like a true predator, the stallion took a moment to circle the mare who, though tall, stood at a hand shorter. Cold eyes stared emptily from dark sockets into her own, and he paused, standing at a right angle to the newcomer. "What do you want here?" he asked, his voice charming and suave in a rather unsettling way. He spoke the way the ancients might have spoken about Mephistopheles; wickedness clothed in beauty and gentle tones. A wolf in sheep's clothing.
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11-15-2012, 06:42 AM
(This post was last modified: 11-16-2012, 10:46 PM by Ophelia.)
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Warlock felt the hairs on the back of her neck raise even before she saw the man clad in red. Her eyes lifted automatically from the movement he created, watching him through her own crimson pools. His limbs were strong, sturdy, built for endurance and possibly speed. He would have definitely proven himself worthy in a fight. Warlock tilted her chin up, raising the rest of her head to look across the small expanse of dirt to the male unicorn. Despite the slight height difference, Warlock did not feel intimidated by his presence. Three long horns grew from the stallion's skull, pointing straight up. Now those would be something she would have to keep an eye on, she decided, resting her back leg as the man finally addressed her. She could feel his eyes on her skin, tracing along the retched scars that had been so beautifully and painstakingly crafted into her skin by the wolves she had fought when she was a little older than a yearling. What did he think of them? Did they make her look ugly? Did it make him want to cringe on the insides? Warlock wanted to know, there was a sudden burning sensation in the depths of her stomach and she could feel her top lip twitching a little. She imagined the words forming on her tongue and she was so, so close to spitting them out when she finally recalled what he had asked. There was something in his voice that made her grin ruefully, almost instantly putting aside her own burning curiosity to answer him. With a suspicious narrowing of her eyes, she snorted, "I want to know why a complete stranger is asking me such idiotic questions." Her voice was sharp, thick and handsome. She was not annoyed, or even angry, her voice was calm, cool and collected; there was even an edge of amusement if one was to look close enough at the tone of her voice.
Her head gently tipped to the side, her forelock slipping away from her eyes and revealing her scars even more than before. The hair had been ripped away from the bridge of her nose, thick lines traced themselves across her face in a disfiguring manner. Though, Warlock had yet to fully decide whether the pale lines actually made her look ugly, or more fierce some. "Is it every day that you go out and decide that you want to strike up a conversation with a complete stranger without so much as introducing yourself?" Her eyes flickered from the brute, casting a glance at a tiny black bird which danced across the thin sheet of snow. It wagged it's tail happily back and forth before fluttering across to a new spot to repeat the dance. Warlock frowned at the bird, such a pleasant little creature. It made her want to throw something at it just to make herself happy.
ooc. eep sorry about the wait!
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| Outcast |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 hh :: 8 Buff: NOVICE |
| Tamme |
RAFE</style>
The coldest blood runs through my veins</style>
I've seen angels fall from greater heights, he thought to himself as he looked over her scarred figure. They were not attractive nor unattractive, simply a feature that would never be lost through time. Scars were funny that way. The divots, white patches and hairless lines always stuck around and ached on cold winter days, reminding you of your own foolishness. From the stance of her figure, she was not afraid of him, and he found that to be foolish as well. Fear was a good emotion when directed for your own safety. The stallion watched the grin curve her lips, and he rested his charcoal hooves to observe her as she spoke.
A short, harsh laugh moved past his lips in response, and he snorted a breath of frost, an amused, sinister grin on his lips. The emotion in his expression was not matched by his icy, apathetic eyes that seemed to be perpetually walled off with inhumanity. "To know if I need to send you yelping back where you cam from," he replied in a voice more smooth than Belial the silver tongued demon. His deep voice resonated with a certain humor that held an edge of seriousness. The stallion held no qualms about chasing this mare off as he stood like a wicked statue in the snow.
The mare tossed a lock forelock aside, and his gaze traveled over the smooth planes of her face to the chasm of a scar that rested over the bridge of her nose. An absent curiosity gripped him, and he wanted to know how she had gained such scars on an otherwise lovely figure. Did he truly care? Probably not. He shouldn't. Another smirk drifted on his lips at her words. "I would hardly consider my demand a conversation starter," he mused with a small snort. "However, I will not deny your opinion as it does lie in my favor." After regarding the mare with a slight narrowing of his eyes, the stallion shifted his shoulders like a wolf and took stock of his surroundings like a true warrior - always aware. "Rafe," he said in introduction.
Rafe watched the bird with distaste before leveling his gaze back at the dark mare. He assessed her once more, finding her figure had some potential in strength. "Do you hold morals or a weak stomach that would keep you from killing?" he asked, wondering if she would be a decent candidate for a mercenary.
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Warlock loved the winter, the cold and icy touch of snow on her back. She loved watching predators stalk their prey with an ease she hoped to one day achieve. Her favourite predator in particular had to be the wolf. They were sly creatures, working in packs to take down their kill easily. She had always wondered where the saying 'as lone a wolf' had originated from, because, after all they are never truly alone. There had been many summers where she would spend her time watching these stunning creatures with a desire of wanting, of waiting, of loneliness. Despite the fact that she was a loner in her self, the sight of the wolves had always sparked a feeling that she could never quite understand. Through the winters Warlock would take advantage of the cold to stalk unwilling prey animals as they huddled together to keep warm. She pretended she was a wolf, her head low, snaking down as a stallion would when he was herding his mares away. Her top lip would lift in a snarl to resemble the snarling wolves in her mind as she suddenly burst out of the woods to startle a flock of birds or spook a herd of deer. Sometimes she would make chase, while other days she would watch them run off with a solid grin on her features. She had always felt the need to become something a little more than she was, though she could never reach the level she was looking for. More, more, her brain would hum as she stalked the wolves and chased their prey. She could never understand the burning desire within her chest as she chucked her head at the stampeding deer. It was almost like...she had been born into the wrong body.
Thinking back to these, all she could think of when she looked at the tall, blood red stallion in front of her was: predator. Every muscle in her body screamed it, her prey instincts told her she should run...however, Warlock was not about to become a prey animal. With the stunning grace of her breeding, she lifted her head to look the stallion in the eye. The harsh tones of his laugh making her skin crawl with warning. Yet, she would not listen to them as her mouth began to move and words formed on her tongue, "how do you know I not be biting instead of yelping?" She asked, trying to match the tones of his, only to end up sounding a little more defensive than she had hoped for. Warlock smirked in an attempt to distract the man from her voice, though she doubted that he would have missed it. Her crimson eyes locked onto his icy blue eyes, she could feel them on the dreadful incisions that cut through her features like a crack in the ice. She couldn't tell what he thought of her, she couldn't see any emotion in those blue eyes to give her even the slightest of hints as to what he thought of them and her.
"Warlock," she said in return, her eyes travelling up the long spikes that started at his poll and ended up on his forehead. Weren't unicorns meant to have only one horn? She wondered, her ears swivelling back as the words of predator pierced her mind again. All he had to do was put his head down and drive himself forward and she would be pierced through the chest to die at his hooves. Her teeth gritted at the thought, she suddenly felt naked and exposed in front of him. It was an unfair advantage and Warlock certainly did not like being out run. Her eyes swooped from his horns to his face again, looking for some indicator or emotion that would give his plans away. The question he asked posed a threat in her mind, almost an opening for an attack, or perhaps he had something else in mind? She straightened up her stance, pulling all four feet under herself. "Morals on killing? Where do you think I acquired these scars from, hmm?" She had no morals, she had no guilt, after all she had admired the wolves for a very long time. Predator, predator...she wanted to be the predator for once.
ooc. ick sorry, i seem to be taking so long to reply to this >.<;; i hope this makes up for it! <3 Slowly beginning to get the hang of her as well XD
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| Outcast |
| Stallion :: Unicorn :: 17.1 hh :: 8 Buff: NOVICE |
| Tamme |
RAFE</style>
The coldest blood runs through my veins</style>
Rafe watched her absently, snorting in amusement when she said that she was biting rather than yelping. "Clever," he replied. "I hold my reservations, but clever." The stallion watched her even more carefully, gleaning the subtle shifts of her features to hide something that he was not aware of. The smirk on her lips seemed to almost mirror his own. Did he intimidate her? Was that why she held the need to copy his movements? Perhaps it was a defense mechanism. Perhaps it was just her. He did not know and he didn't much care.
Warlock was an interesting name for a woman; it was attractive and interesting. He raised a red brow curiously and nodded. "Pleased to meet you, Warlock," he said, bowing deeply and scraping a hoof across the ground to accent his politeness. The smirk on his lips almost shifted into a smile, but the expression still did not reach his dead eyes. After assuming his normal, slouching position, he rolled his shoulders and waited for her to address his other statements.
She mentioned earning her scars from battle, from killing, and he raised a brow again. "I figured you got them from doing something stupid, like most mares. Mayhap you ventured too deeply into predator territory. I have been known to be wrong." He smiled again. "Well, Miss Warlock, if you have no moral qualms with killing and your personality seems attractive enough, what say you join the Grey? We are a band of mercenaries and spies who operate to restore balance. I am sure the group would benefit from such a pretty face."
[OOC: sorry for the wait! So much admin stuff to do. If you want, I can change her rank to outcast and you can start posting your lovely lady all over! ]
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