| Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8 | dam: 7 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 14.2 :: 9 HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Kasai :: White Tiger :: Wind Whip
Sparrow |
R O M A N I
I Want You to Come in Closer
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The sand felt smooth beneath her hooves, the waves gently lapping at her legs as she stood knee-deep in the water. Her eyes, a soft azure, stared out across the equally blue expanse of the ocean, taking in the sight of the large body of water. Ever so slowly, a breath was released from her lungs, long and exasperated. Waiting a few seconds more, she sucked in another deep breath, letting it out just as slow as the first one. The mare almost looked sad, standing in the churning waves of the shore, staring out at nothing. Instead, her mind had wandered, completely forgetting the land around her… Her thoughts danced of a certain grullo stallion, wondering where he was or what he was doing. Xanthos came from a harsh land, the Basin, and she couldn’t help but worry and fret over him whenever they parted ways. Would he be alright?
Ever so slowly the Haflinger came back to herself, lifting her head as she snapped to attention. Red ears turned upright, swiveling frontwards, taking in the sounds of the crashing ocean. Feeling came back to her, the gentle caress of the waves brushing past her legs, the lulling current pushing and pulling… It was mystifying, which is why Romani lost herself to her thoughts in the first place.
“I’m becoming an old nag, losing my senses like this,” the Foothills warrior murmured softly, a somewhat sardonic grin crossing her lips. Where had this mood come from? The skies were overcast, the sun hidden behind a thick layer of clouds. Perhaps that was what was responsible for her out of the norm mood. Despite that, it was warm out, but evening was fast approaching. Soon, it would be nightfall… She would do best to return to the Foothills before it got darker.
With one last look across the ocean, Romani turned on her haunches and trudged through the waves back onto shore, giving each leg a little shake to rid itself from the excess water. Her feathers stuck to her hooves, attracting dirt and sand as she strode across the beach, but she didn’t mind. The Haflinger wasn’t one for vanity or maintaining a ‘beautiful’ appearance, after all. With a snort, the palomino tossed her head and picked up her gait into a smooth, flowing trot. Hopefully she would return home without incident.
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| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 4 Buff: NOVICE |
| Bluey |
l a r k s p u r
Loose ends, they tangle down and then take flight.
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It had been a long time since she had seen the ocean. There was something mighty and fierce about how the water seemed to stretch on past the horizon forever, crashing waves roiling and rolling and ruling the sandy beaches, commanding attention. It was wild and untamable, limitless in its power, unstoppable as to how far it could reach if nature so wished. The cobalt colored mare traversed the sandy shores quietly, her steps trailing through the frothy surf in a contemplative and thoughtful determination, slow and cautious. The mare’s golden eyes peer about her surroundings from beneath the veil of twisted, tangled black locks, her appearance as wild and imposing and elegant as the ocean churning before her.
A moment of restlessness had sent Larkspur wandering through Helovia, away from the Basin and her brethren there. Call it a scouting expedition if you will, still being relatively new to the area she had taken the opportunity to learn the lay of the land a little better, each footstep becoming a piece of the map she slowly constructed and built in her memory. Shuler, a peculiarly polite and cordial stallion of Psyche’s lot, had directed her south in suggestion- and here she was.
The dark mare eased to a stop, leonine tail flicking long tendrils of ocean-damp hair across hocks and gaskins. A noise sounds in the distance, thrumming hooves jogging across the damp sand, the unicorn swings her head in the direction of the din, ears swiveled forward in ambiguous curiosity, eyes narrowed. The slow descent of the sun casts oranges and brilliant, bright reds against the backdrop of the sky, and Larkspur stands stark and shadowed against the ivory white purity of the sand, a composition of muscles coiled beneath a cerulean cover, strong legs flexing idly as they shift from side to side, eyes narrowed in intense study. She is a mark against the otherwise perfect complexion of the beach.
The mare comes into view shortly, a small, stout creature painted in stains of sandy reds and creamy white. Larkspur watches carefully from where she has stopped; a large, obtrusive and hardly unnoticeable object on the beach. It would be impossible to avoid being noticed. She observes the mare from a distance, sizing her up in the time she has before they must acknowledge one another. While Larkspur carries a black and white brindled horn upon her brow, a weapon of deadly brutality, there is no such object bestowed to this stranger. Her forehead is bare and lacking.
The deep, ingrained sense of distaste for lesser species that can be traced back to the furthest reaches of Larkspur’s ancestry can be seen in the darkening of her eyes, the change of her stance and the way her ears lay flat against her head, as if a snake had slithered across her path. Her head is raised slightly, challenging, daring the stranger to speak if she were brave enough.
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Image Credits
| Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8 | dam: 7 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 14.2 :: 9 HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Kasai :: White Tiger :: Wind Whip
Sparrow |
R O M A N I
I Want You to Come in Closer
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It was a dark mar against the otherwise pristine sandy beach that caused Romani to falter in her gait, quickly coming to a stop as her head snapped to the right, spotting the creature far too late. Dread filled her gut, turning her blood to ice as she recognized that the animal who was watching her had a horn upon its head. A Unicorn, then… Azure eyes regarded the mare closely, sizing up her large stature and the pure muscle that was built into one lithe frame. Was she with Xanthos’ herd in the Basin? Had he, perhaps, sent her…? Or was it Elizabeth, the bitch mare, too good to do her own dirty work? Last the warrior had known, Elizabeth had been captured, but there was a possibility that she had been released in the time since she had last seen Xanthos.
Tilting her head slightly, Romani straightened her posture to the defensive, just in case this mare wanted a fight. By the look of her, she did. With ears pinned back and her golden gaze narrowed as sharp as a knife, this Unicorn was something to be leery of. “I do not believe we’ve met, Miss,” Romani said politely, not at all wanting to anger the blue mare before her, “Yet you look as if I’ve wronged you in the past. I want no trouble; I’m merely passing through back to my home.”
Would this mare let her be, or would she issue a challenge? The Haflinger recalled the spar she had shared with Archibald, and the lessons she had learned that day. Oh, had she improved on her abilities? She could only hope. Changing her weight, the compact mare waited for an answer, the grains of sands shifting under her hooves. The beach would be a difficult place for a spar, with the terrain so unreliable… Regardless, Romani waited, her head held high and azure eyes locked on the golden orbs of the mare before her.
[OOC: Bluey, I just wanna say that I LOVE your writing. :3]
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| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 4 Buff: NOVICE |
| Bluey |
l a r k s p u r
Loose ends, they tangle down and then take flight.
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The wind whips at her back, carrying the scent of salt and sea and sand with it, swirling and spinning around her, overwhelming and distracting as it claws at her mane and tosses granules of the sandy shore up to bite at her skin. Nature’s antagonism guiles Larkspur with its siren’s call, taunts and tempts her to be reduced to nothing but an empty entity, a hallow shell discarded on the shore, an opportunity to escape and forget herself entirely. At least for now.
“I do not believe we’ve met, Miss. Yet you look as if I’ve wronged you in the past. I want no trouble; I’m merely passing through back to my home.”
Larkspur grinds her teeth thoughtfully, biting her tongue in a moment of clarity that begs her boiling temper to remain silent. This mare, this Romani character, was absolutely right, she had done nothing of any sort to deserve the venomous look that radiated and flickered in flame like quality from the cerulean mare’s yellow-gold eyes. But Larkspur had never had any manners or reason to find propriety useful, and now was no different. History had already cemented the foundation for hatred, sewing abhorrence into her bones, allowing it to race unfettered through the blood in her veins, unexplained in its existence, but there all the same. She was a unicorn, a warrior, an untamable and fierce creature driven by pride and dignity, born of the earth and the stars, indescribable and imposing in her manifestation.
And today she allows herself to fall into the framework of her past, a history riddled with battalions and vicious battles, of mindless, senseless chaos and discord. Instinct instructs her to remain in bitter denial, glaring eyes, caustic and corrosive in their intensity, unable and incapable of trust or reason. Somewhere she can hear her mother’s voice, calm and pleading in serene, sorrowful syllables, mixed with the wild crashing of the ocean against the coastline at her back. Larkspur ignores the ghost though, ignores the lamenting wails of disappointment that assault her senses, drive her fury, make her think of her father’s broken, lifeless body amongst a sea of his brethren’s blood.
The past, haunting, dark and daunting, blinds and deprives her of seeing the light.
“Home?” She laughs, a bitter and biting sound that leaps from her throat in such a way to suggest madness, rough, guttural and crass. “How is it that we claim to belong somewhere, when eternally we are nowhere at all?”
Larkspur’s resolve crumbles and collapses like a broken cliff side rampart into the churning waters of the sea, standing still, yet lost in the turmoil of her desolation, her self-destruction, another scarred and jaded windfall amongst the multitudes. Dark hooves churn and shift in restless distress at the ivory sand, it clings to her legs like the snowflakes of Frostfall, if only it held the same mind numbing cold. Perhaps then she could have stopped this madness before it started, but caution is long gone, common sense wanting hopelessly for restored restraint. Innocence does not dwell here, no freedom from sin or moral wrong, only wild and reckless abandon, snarling and mad like a rabid dog, begging for a fight.
Temptation calls, a lost friend, and the stormy mare answers gladly.
“Tell me, are you afraid?”
[OOC: Thank you!! Sorry Lark is being so hateful, she is having a bad day. x3]
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Image Credits
| Outcast atk: 4 | def: 8 | dam: 7 |
| Mare :: Equine :: 14.2 :: 9 HP: 66 | Buff: NOVICE |
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Kasai :: White Tiger :: Wind Whip
Sparrow |
R O M A N I
I Want You to Come in Closer
|
The rhetorical question that barked from the blue mare’s lips made Romani realize that her words had no effect. Inhaling deeply, azure eyes narrowed slightly, ears swiveling back, but she didn’t lower them to her skull. She was a warrior, not a diplomat, yet Romani was discovering on more and more occasions that her words were a greater weapon than her hooves or teeth. One hoof raised, as if it’s own accord, and stamped down upon the ground, granules of sand puffing up in a cloud of white only to fall back down and rest upon the ground, some grains landing upon her hooves. The breeze around them picked up, somewhat chilly from streaming off the tops of the ocean, and toyed with the strands of her ivory mane, forelock dancing cumbersomely in front of her intense gaze.
“Eternally we can be wherever we want to be, Miss,” she said formally once more, her tone shifting somewhat in challenge. While Romani didn’t turn aggressive, she was growing tired of Unicorn’s trying to walk all over her, simply because she didn’t have a horn upon her head. “We can even be everywhere, if you’d like, for don’t we leave pieces of ourselves across the land that we traverse? We also take pieces of those lands with us, when we leave. Like this beach, for example… It will always have a part of me, and you, and I will always have a part of it.”
It was this haughty mare’s final question that caused the Haflinger’s ears to finally turn back, pressing back against her skull. Her facial expression, however, remained the same, but her azure eyes turned icy with cool indifference. “Yes.” The Foothills Warrior stated without shame, simply lifting her head higher, “Only a fool would ignore their fear, Miss. Fear and instinct is what has saved our ancestors for years; yours and mine.”
Romani did not claim to know this creature before her, or know what made her tick the way that she did. Perhaps it was an ingrown racism that drove Larkspur to anger, from years and years of manipulation? The thought of it made the palomino pity the shadowed mare. Poor thing…
“If a spar is what you want, Miss, then I won’t turn you down, but my only consolation is that the victor takes nothing, and the loser gives nothing. Very well?”
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| Hidden Account |
| Mare :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 4 Buff: NOVICE |
| Bluey |
l a r k s p u r
Loose ends, they tangle down and then take flight.
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Larkspur appraises the equine and her wise words, though no cordiality bestows her expression, no hint of kindness or repose. She remains a solid figure upon the beach, muscles coiled beneath skin, taught and tense with the anxieties of the monsters in her head, the apprehensions of her own hesitations and fears that lay at the foundation of her animosity, her abhorrence for these lesser creatures that walk the land and bark and scream for equality, for significance. The war that wages in her is one that has spanned the ages, as ancient as time itself, racing through the blood of those who have witnessed its history, the violence, and the chaos.
“If a spar is what you want, Miss, then I won’t turn you down, but my only consolation is that the victor takes nothing, and the loser gives nothing. Very well?”
Was it a spar Larkspur sought? A clash against the enemy here on these wind tossed, sandy shores? Larkspur smiled then, a Cheshire cat’s revealing of teeth, her eyes are bright with the thought of a challenge, and something in the way she stand changes. Energy replaces the festering anger, the vicious intent, an excitement that comes with the prospects of glory and victory. Would this russet and red colored mare dare to prove her worth, test her mettle against the likes of Larkspur? Bravery was admirable no matter how she viewed the opponent, if she turned down the offer, she would be the one wearing the title of cowardice.
“My name is Larkspur,” She finally speaks, intonations of pride and unabashed arrogance twisted into the cry of her voice against the wind, “Courage speaks volume of character, if you wish to prove your worth, I’ll agree to your terms.”
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Image Credits
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