She walked the meadows. She had never stepped foot in this place. It had taken a long time to get here. She had to past through what seemed to be and endless cloud of fog. She stood still. Her coat bright as ever. She lifted her head high and sniffed the air for a scent of Sandman. She was no longer angry with him. It was just his nature to be like that. She hoped they could be friends at least. First, she had to find out his tucked away secrets. She thought about his big teddy bear posture and she wanted let a smirk run through her face. She held it back with her pearls. Her head lowered back down. "Oh Te--" She cut herself off and almost as embarrassed as her bold attitude was.. bold. "Oops.. Sandman?" She hoped he was here. She had checked many places to no avail.
"Sandman?" She repeated his name. Hoping he would hear her flashy voice. Hopefully he could recognize it through the cloud of fog that lingered not to far away. She lowered her front end then her back. Laying on her stomach, she sighed. She leaned to her left. Her legs spread out on her right, and she lay flat on her side. She was tired.
Moment after moment. Second after second. Her orbs were far to fatigued to stay open. She closed them and silently fell asleep. The thin layer of snow felt comfortable. This place was closest to the sun. It was the warmest because of this.
OOC: I think I will let her be all groggy when he comes, then she will wake slightly, then develop a slight interest for him. He can react however and he can feel whatever you'd like him to.
Sandman
The only promise I could make you is that my promise is a lie.
|
Unflattering words hissed in his mind, most self-directed, though a few referred to the mountain he was climbing, and the thick vapor that obscured his surroundings. He had noticed the thin path twisting around the stony peak, and out of curiosity had decided to follow it. Great decision that was, traipsing along in the fog that chilled his pelt and seeped down to his skin. Ears were pinned in irritation, an uncharacteristic gesture, for the stallion usually kept up the appearance of a friendly nature. However, he was certain none could see him here, and he didn’t really care if any did notice his anger. Why shouldn’t he be in a foul mood, with the clouds blinding and freezing him? It would be downright unnatural if he were to trot along cheerfully, as if he enjoyed his current predicament.
The faintest of sounds reached him then. It was muffled and distant, but the unique acoustics of this place allowed him to recognize his own name. But who could possibly be calling him? He quickly ran down a mental list of those he had met, trying to find a match. The voice sounded feminine, so Ricochet and Valentine were out. Rowan? He doubted that, she had been rather soft-spoken. Then the flicka Kanti was more cheerful. If she had wanted to find him, no doubt she would bound along with a happy determination, not wait around and hope he would happen upon her. So that left the palomino lady he had met in the Threshold, the one who had refused to give him her name. But why would she seek him out? Upon parting ways, she had been quite upset with him, angered by his playboy ways and silver-tongued lies.
Intrigued, he picked up his pace, easing into a steady trot. The mist thinned out as he continued, until he found himself looking out on an open field. It was dusted lightly with snow, but seemed relatively unscathed by the cruel winter, probably due to being high enough that most clouds passed below it rather than above. Cold still kept its grip, of course, frosting the grass into brittle brown stalks, but it was in much better condition than the world below. Perhaps the journey up the mountainside would prove to be worth the effort after all.
A glint of gold caught his attention, and reminded him of the unexpected summons. The mare was laying on her side, apparently sound asleep. Should he wake her? He mulled over the decision for a moment before coming to a conclusion. Remaining a few yards away, he let out a low bugle, intending to awaken the fae without startling her by looming too close. He felt no animosity for the dove after all, and had no wish to be the on the receiving end of her wrath yet again.
OOC:
Acting my part
Speaking my lines
Plotting the scene
|
|
Her body was in a limp mound. Dreams had taken over her brain. Her orbs were flicked open with a low bugle. Sandman's. she stood up rather quickly. Slightly to quickly. Blotches of different shades and colors blotched her vision, but went away after a moment or two. There stood Sandman. She whinnied delightfully and tossed her head in a joyous manner. Her anger was deteriorated.
She was a few strides away from him. With no idea why she was happy, she regained whatever composure was left in her body. "Hello." Voice was a gorgeous melody currently. Coat shining. Breath misting. Earth freezing.
The tired reaction caught up with her. Her orbs trying close and rest. She struggled to stay awake. She was strong, elegant, and slightly seductive. She wondered how he would act if she let herself go with the flow once. A smile weaved its way onto her delicate muzzle. Her posture screamed fragile, but her voice sang strong.
OOC: Sorry for it being short. I am writing this on an iPhone...
Sandman
The only promise I could make you is that my promise is a lie.
|
He watches as the girl scrambles to her hooves, keeping his posture neutral. It would seem that her previous fury had faded, as she greeted him with delight. It is an unexpected reaction, and for a moment he simply chooses to puzzle over her behavior rather than reply. Yet, he is used to mares welcoming his presence, even after fierce disagreement, and he concludes that either she is forgiving, or has some purpose she wishes to use him for. Either way, he will go along with the scene.
“Hello, love. You called?” Easily crossing the distance between them, careful neutrality shifting towards a warmer demeanor. She is still tired, he notices, eyes drifting closed only to be jerked open again. It is endearing, in a way, and he gently bumps his muzzle against hers. “It’s hardly polite to call me here, then fall asleep, don’t you think?” He delivers the message in a friendly, teasing tone, taking any potential sting from the words.
His earlier irritation has been put aside, her presence and this meadow having overshadowed any discomfort he endured on the journey up the mountain. Plus, it is soothing to let down his mask, to be himself rather than playing a role assigned to him by an expecting audience. He is not certain how she saw through the act, whether she was simply perceptive or whether he was slipping, but for the moment he does not much care. It is slightly warmer here, there is no deep snow to bog him down and mat in the feathering around his hooves, and he is in the company of an agreeable mare, so he feels no need to worry about his ability to act. Instead, he simply waits, wondering idly why the palomino wished to speak with him.
OOC:It's ok, I understand how difficult that can be.
Acting my part
Speaking my lines
Plotting the scene
|
|
Hello, love. You called? His words echoed in her mind. She knew it was just a silly name. He bumps his muzzle up to hers. She barely heard, or understood his words after. She could only comprehend some. What she could understand, told her to stay awake. She tried keeping her eyes open, but every once in a while they almost shut, then were quickly flicked awake.
She realized she still hadn't told the stallion her name, but she kept it like that. It may be better if he never knew her name. Perhaps she would tell him if there were no secrets here, but on, he had to be secretive. What stallion wasn't? Then it flew out of her mouth... "So you still don't know my name. huh? Well, it is Florelle." She tried to stop herself, but it was like trying to stop a bullet once you have already shot it. Impossible.
Golden coat clean, as usual. A strong, yet innocent voice that was fluid. Her voice, almost melodious. She flicked her silver banner and watched with her dazzling orbs. Big brown orbs looked back. A long face with a large blaze. Oh Sandman. She turned her thoughts 'off' for a moment. She switched one ear back, and waited for the sweet caramel colored horse to answer.
OOC: Sorry she has been SUPER slow.
Sandman
The only promise I could make you is that my promise is a lie.
|
Still sleepy, the lady informs him of her name at last. So much for her declaration in the Threshold that she would remain forever nameless to him. Florelle. It suits her, he thinks, bright and bold and just the slightest bit exotic. Charming words flow forth, a combination of habit and rare sincerity. “A fine name, and I am glad you have chosen to reveal it to me. However, I must say I enjoyed calling you love.”
Dark eyes regard the mare, noting that she is studying him as well. Her shining sunny pelt is as he remembers it, moon colored streamers flowing, free of tangles and burrs. Truly, she is beautiful, a creature worthy of admiration. Yet, he has met other such golden faes, and he finds that he prefers the deeper shades of bay.
Just like that, memories threaten to overwhelm the stallion, rushing into his mind like uninvited guests. The scent of rain is vivid, as are the bouquets of oak and maple. Running through the trees, chasing a swift brown and black shadow, heart full of emotions he had never known before, because he had not known her.
No. Like slamming a door, he shoves the recollection away. It is too painful to be allowed the free reign it so desperately wants. Well, the memory itself isn’t cruel, he amends. It is the knowledge that such days are long since past that sends the sharp claws of loss to tear at him. Still, better to lock away thoughts of a sylvan girl, banish her shade from his presence. He hates her, but he loves her more. Damn her, he growls mentally.
Attention turns back to the dove standing before him, hoping she had not noticed his lapse in control, that she had not seen the pain crossing his features in the few moments it had taken to come back to himself.
OOC:
Acting my part
Speaking my lines
Plotting the scene
|
|
A slight beam cascades her golden face. A slight stance of pain and longing crosses the stag. "Sandman, if it is another mare you long,go find her before it's to late." The mare steps forward and touches her muzzle to his. A stake pierces her heart. She realizes she had feelings for the deceptive stag. White and broad blaze streaked his face. Long at last, she got to see the honey stag. Yes, he had indeed been very deceptive, yet he drew her closer. Perhaps they could be friends. Maybe close friends.
His regained his composure. Big brow eyes melting her heart. The white clouds making sure the Helovia residents were cold. A shiver ran down her spine. The flicka wasn't sure what drew her closer. She preferred stallions with albino coats. Blue eyes and pink muzzles. She might have thought like a child, but she was jealous. She pinned her ears back against her cranium. She flicked them forward, realizing he was still present. "Well? Are you going to leave?"
She stood still. No longer tired. His presence made butterflies swell in her stomach. Would he still try to seduce her? Would she be easier to seduce now that she may have feelings for the stag?
OOC: So sorry she really doesn't have muse, perhaps she will soon though!
Sandman
The only promise I could make you is that my promise is a lie.
|
Her muzzle rests on his a moment, offering comfort. Though Sandman is no child, he longs to rest, tell this mare his troubles and let her ease the cutting pain, to lie on the frosted grass and pretend everything is ok just because she is here and will soothe him. A foal-like urge, one he knows he will never act on. Broken as he might be inside, pride holds him back, struggles to pull back the tattered remains of his mask back in place. Out of habit, a smile crosses his face, but it is bitter and sad.
“I can’t go to her,” he admits softly, keeping his gaze safely off to the side. Guen, too, was gone, his best friend living comfortably in his desert home, ruling his new herd. The draft understands why the black stallion had made such a choice, remaining in Cedar rather than coming along on another adventure, but the abandonment hurt nonetheless. As to Angel, well, their separation was permanent. Nevermore would her presence grace him, teasing words instigating a run through the trees just for the thrill. Already he was forgetting the exact shade of her eyes, losing the way she had smelled. He is both thankful for the memory lapse, and terrified by it.
No matter how much her memory stabbed into his heart, he could not bear to forget. To forget her, would be to forget what being happy felt like.
OOC: So sorry for the wait!
Acting my part
Speaking my lines
Plotting the scene
|
|
A smile runs over his face. Joy crinkles inside her. Pleased the stallion would unmask some of his true self. His voice breaks her pleased stance. He said that he couldn't go to the horse. Well? Why not? What was holding him back. She knew it wasn't her business, but she was curious. "Was she ever yours?" Her chords were soft and comforting. Blue eyes harnessed such softness to them now. Dark chocolate lips were speaking so kindly. White blaze and four white socks were clean as always. Light creamy mane and tail were ever so slightly wavy.
"Sandman, you can't lose something you never had." Honesty cursed through her veins. She was modest and told her profile piece by piece. She new much more about the stag, then he knew of her. Her coat was slightly thick from Frostfall, but the glorious season of Birdsong was warming Helovia and making the horses shedding, and she was a horse. "Sandman? May I ask who she is?" Curiosity got the best, just like always. He didn't have to tell her, and she would be perfectly capable of handling his secretive personality.
She seemed vulnerable, but Sandman knew she wasn't. She had a keen intellect and a vibrant way of showing it. Harmonious chords described her perfectly. Looking like such an easy target, but she was strong and passionate. She was almost like Sandman. A deceptive outside with a truly different core. The two were very similar actually. Both were of golden tones. A white blaze on both heads. Socks on their legs. Deceitful features. Innocent features. Her thoughts then spoke the lyrics of the truth. But don't opposites attract?
Sandman
The only promise I could make you is that my promise is a lie.
|
Had she ever been his? He had thought so, once upon a time. Yet Florelle’s words whispered insidiously through his veins, forcing him to question every memory, to drag up every scrap of recollection scrutinize them for falsity. Doubt began to twist in his gut, a coiled monster rising up to devour his insides. He wanted to double over, to howl that his memories of the sylvan girl were real and pure, untouched by lies and deceit. A shrieking, swirling emptiness fills his heart, freezing it solid and spreading numbness throughout his body.
Hollow, defeated, the golden stallion just stares blankly into the distance for a while. Answering doesn’t seem important now. Nothing seems important. All his best memories, the ones that made life bearable, had been called into question, and while he cannot deny that Angel was indeed his, he cannot confirm it either. Such knowledge is like salt being poured into a gaping wound, burning agony mixing with blinding pain until he knows nothing besides his suffering.
The thought of throwing himself down the mountain is tempting, but Sandman refrains from such drastic action. With his luck, he’d somehow survive the drop, broken bones and mental anguish washing over his ragged form until some damned horse would just happen to wander by, and just happen to be a healer, and that would just be terribly counterproductive.
And so he lingers in the flower filled field, in this place above the clouds that holds no solace for a hollow creature such as himself. An old legend flits through his mind, stories of other beings who travelled between worlds in a state of emotionlessness, searching for lost hearts. Would he become one of them? What if his heart no longer existed, swallowed by the greedy darkness that has suddenly grown inside of him? “There’s nothing left…” He isn’t even aware that the words have been said aloud, too busy contemplating what his life will be like now that nothing bright remains.
OOC:
Acting my part
Speaking my lines
Plotting the scene
|
|
He stared blankly at her for a moment. She had made him rethink everything. Was she in line to do such drastic actions? She was intelligent and that was a fact, but a stab of stupidity stung her heart and she looked at him broken. His voice just kills her. There is nothing left... She couldn't bare it and looked away from his face. The mare might have just put Sandman over the top. And for what?
"Sandman, I--" Here voice is sorrowed and not filled with her waste intellect. She herself bashed her mind and the only reason she called him up was to see him. Badly enough, she twisted his thoughts, memories, brightness. "I am sorry." She continued. "I didn't mean to leave you staring blankly. I didn't mean to bring up your memories and question the." She looked back at him. Everything blurred. Splotches of color dotted her vision. Her cranium felt light headed. The mare had just broken down too.
"I am sorry.." Like a thorn of sadness. She whispered. Her voice like a gun. She shot it at him. Not deserving an apology from this stallion. She would soon drive him into madness if she stayed. He drew her in and she just couldn't leave now. Both repulsive of herself and drawn to him. The stallion may have picked the wrong mare when she walked through the forest. He probably knew it now. She knew it.
Her pale coat seemed dull and her light locks were tired. The bright white legs that could be seen so clear were now dirty. Her pink muzzle had dirt dotting it. What had she done? She shuddered slightly. Powerful urges to comfort him and more urges to leave. I am a monster. I were the coat of beauty, but devils live inside me. I ran him to the ground. Her blue orbs held sadness, sorrow, hate in herself. She stayed quiet now. Both of her usually pricked forward ears were flicked back now. She swayed her tail slightly. Restless. Helpless. Venomous. She could hold many titles now. It wasn't her place to do this. Her orbs shifted their glance to the ground.
|
.svg/2000px-Google_Chrome_icon_(2011).svg.png){kind=icon}
