S h a j a k e Is there laughter in his striking green eyes? Something was moving in the distance, between the trees just further ahead. Weren't you able to see them move about and whisper your name? A dark laugh came from his throat, madness moving through his head before he caught himself and iced over his vocal cords. The figure off to the distance was gone, having moved off with the wind that moved it like a shadow made of ashes. He played the paranoia inside of his brain, broken gears attempting to move and work as thoughts played out. When the broken gears within his mind worked at a slow rate, he was able to find himself close to the brink of sanity. Now the dapple gray stallion wasn't insane, but a plague of schizophrenia had taken over his mind. Beside stood his common companion of the mind, a white shape that lacked the features to make it close to an equine like himself.
Quick bursts of anger moved through his mind as it moved on without him, and as it stood in the trees, surrounded by rolling clouds of low lying mist and fog, it pleaded for him to follow. Every plead was returned with a stare with no emotion to it, with green eyes that pierced the world around. Daylight slipped in through the canopy, falling over in selected places. Watching the shape with ever growing attention, it moved itself into a beam of light and fell away. A small smirk came across the stallion's face, seeing it disappear. It wasn't able to hold it's embodiment long, like a drunk who couldn't ever hold down his liquor.
Moving towards where it had only faded and burned off, the voices spoke to him. Oh Shajake, why do you make me leave when we're only starting to have fun? A grunt came from the stallion in a brutish way, ignoring the words. Trickery and attempts to drive him further off the edge. Somehow the stallion was finding ways to pull himself away from the edge of insanity. Call cleansing if you please, any name you gave it would not come with much gratefulness from him.
His presence was taken note of fast as he passed through the trees. If his mane had been white unlike the black colour it held now, it wouldn't be too much to believe that he was a spirit wandering the area. Some little frightened herd horse would come by and see the large stallion move through the fog and mist like something from a horror movie, and take to sprinting the safety of their herdland. Why would the gods, such powerful creatures, take pity in their weakness and exploit their power to watch over them? It was a sickening thought for him all together.
The birds flew from their branches as the dark figure he'd seen in the trees ahead came forth towards him, causing him only to move in a quick fashion. Panic went shot through his body like electricity before remembering it was only his disease, and this was normal. Further off, the birds made their series of chirps and calls to one another, attempting to be brought back together after their startlement. Sick pleasure came forth on as he smiled, only wishing he had taken one down in the process of moving them around. It wasn't bad for a man to enjoy death, and to see himself as part of it. We all went there, and how could it be frowned upon that one may enjoy it?
Fog thickened itself and rose slightly, moving up to knee height on the overgrown Arabian stallion. Black stockings on his legs were quickly engulfed in the murk, he soon lifting them to check to see if they still existed upon his body. Trees turned bleak gray and black in the veil, and though it was daytime, the world was portraying itself in this place as time of day he couldn't name. For if there is a time of day like so, then daytime isn't so welcoming anymore to the souls of mortals. |
image credits
table by whit
| Outcast atk: 9 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 8 HP: 61.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
| Gaz |
05-05-2013, 05:26 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-05-2013, 06:19 PM by Murdock.)
Anti-Murdock
After the young mare he had met on the Steppe had pointed him in the direction of warmer territory, Murdock had wasted no time in making his way south. He was well aware he had destroyed the mare's good mood in the time he had spent with her; it did nothing to dirty up his conscience but perhaps even raised his spirits in the slightest. Was it wrong of him to take pleasure in such tyranny? He didn't think so, but then after all the misery he had to go through he figured it was only fair that someone else experience the hell he was dealing with. No one cared for him and his personal 'storm cloud', though it was beyond his knowledge that his loneliness was entirely of his doing.
Thick mist swirled around his chest now as he made his way further into the depths of the forest, intent on putting as much distance as possible between himself and the winter 'wonderland' he had left behind. His feet ached from walking but he ignored the weary pleas of his aching muscles and shook off his mind's desire to rest. The bitter chill of late Orangemoon seeped through his skin to the marrow of his bones, and he felt the only way to shake the cold was to keep on moving.
Thin fragments of sunlight broke through the canopy like golden rays of Holy intent, piercing the thick mist here and there like flood lights. Personally, he had never believed in the Gods or any beings of a 'higher order'. It was all blasphemy as far as he was concerned; after all, where was the visible evidence that these watchful guardians existed? If they truly were up there in the vast, open sky, why hadn't they done anything about the horrors that existed on their planet and the violence that was a part of some poor bastard's life on a day-to-day basis?
Amber leaves, masked by the damp curtain of mist, cracked beneath his silver hooves as he wound through the trees. A thin layer of frost had formed on his feathers and they rustled loudly as he flexed his wings. The forest was so closed in and cramped, like a jail house with a million bars that formed an endless maze. He twisted his head about in the darkness, looking for a way out to the light of day so he could finally breathe in the fresh air again and get away from the musty stench of the woods.
He set his sights on a new direction, stepping off a faintly worn trail onto thick grass that could only be felt and not seen as the tendrils of mist sheltered it from view. He pressed his wings tight against his dark body as he stepped through the shadows, tall ears rising on his head as the muffled sound of footfalls reached him. His pace slowed abruptly to a halt as he turned his head, emerald eyes locking onto the dark, dappled form of a slender stallion who moved through the trees a short distance away.
He looked panicked and frightened, the crooked blaze that wound across the bridge of his nose only serving to emphasize the instability of his character. Murdock watched him quietly for a moment, briefly considering slipping away into the shadows and leaving the stranger to fret over whatever chased him. Tossing such musings aside, he instead stepped forward from the veil of trees to approach the stallion. "What are you doing?" He asked gruffly, his voice disinterested and rough from lack of use. He lacked tact when it came to social interactions, as he had never bothered to acquaint himself with proper conduct or small talk of any sort. He scrutinized the stranger with a slight frown, searching the shadows to ensure they were alone.
"talk talk talk"
Lift my spirit, take me higher, make me fly,
Touch the moon up in the sky
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Image Credit
S h a j a k e Footfalls that were not his own came from the fog and mist, the sounds around catching in his ears. His heavy head is raised higher from within the mist, having lowered it down to give himself the appearance of a lost head. The thought of it was enough to keep others from bothering his dark soul, yet now something other than his mind was visiting. They hadn't left, as their voices fell around him. Every sentence given to him was ignored, until a voice, a true voice, broke the silence. Birds moved overhead in sudden excitement and startlement, and he catches the rough stratch on the voice like his own. Someone who rarely ever spoke. Exactly what he needed.
A dark thought crosses his mind. Is you that wishes to be bothered? If not, rid yourself of bothersome creatures. This brings a smile to his face as he sees the source of the voice. After a greeting in the Threshold he had came prepared for anything like so. Before him stood a black stallion with white wings. The indifference of the creature near him catches his attention for small moments, before another voice pleads out his name. He shakes his head, growling to voice as his black mane is tossed about. A thought of if the creature near was thinking it was to him passed by, and quickly fled. This creature came upon him, in the middle of dark forest where the fog and mist were thick. Shajake could in every way hide himself away in this place, and not be found until the next year. But that wasn't his idea. It was to be shut out from the rest, and keep any conversation that was forced at low level. So far things didn't seem to be working out.
Rogue rays of sunlight fall down, kissing the fog around him. The piercing uniqueness of his green eyes stay glued to the stallion before he takes a step. On his own path that he was upon before being bothered. His vocal cords moved about in his throat, attempting to stratch up one word to give the other an answer. He found it, somewhere, and in a rough, stratched, and broken voice, attempted to tear out a single word sentence.
"Exciling."
It surprised him not to hear a stutter in his voice this time, but its dark and deep tone was still there. When he spoke, it always came out like a demon teasing it's next meal. One reason he never spoke. Second reason for not speaking, nothing ever worth speaking over. Looking over to his company, he raised a curious look to his face. He wasn't about to feed the same question back to the stallion. It was only common that after being asked that question, he'd return it. Yet, he remembered he made himself look like he had been exciled from a herd. Herds were nothing to his mind. Being an outcast, it left him to be exactly himself and permanently alone.
His company wasn't pleasing enough, therefore two strides forward were taken before he found himself in the white beam of light. Its sudden burst forced him to turn his eyes away, thin heat come from it. The air was wet with the fog hanging about, it now rising up to the level where it touched the base of his neck. Disappearing into the fog seemed a good idea right now. Anything to escape the forced words that would have to come from him with this horse. And only because his voice belonged exactly to a demon.
OOC: Sorry for slow and bad reply! The next one will be better.
"Sed interdum rutrum urna, sed pellentesque sapien tempor in." Quisque iaculis dapibus fermentum. |
image credits
table by whit
| Outcast atk: 9 | def: 10.5 | dam: 2.5 |
| Stallion :: Pegasus :: 16.2hh :: 8 HP: 61.5 | Buff: ENDURE |
| Gaz |
05-11-2013, 09:33 PM
(This post was last modified: 05-11-2013, 09:38 PM by Murdock.)
Almost instantly he knew his quiet approach had been compromised by the weight of his feet. Brilliant green eyes not unlike his own turned toward him, followed by a dark and slender face skewed by a pale blaze. A small smile appeared on his lips as he watched the smaller stranger, but it was not one of welcoming or amiability; rather, it was one of amusement. Birds shied away from the gruff tones of his voice as he spoke into the silent, empty air, tipping his head to the side in one swift movement to shift his forelock from his eyes.
Mist curled around his legs like the hungry fingers of lost souls, gripping his fetlocks with damp, cool hands and stroking his tail with ancient claws. He shifted in the wet air, letting his wings fall from his sides to rest the tips of his feathers on the earth. His appearance was overall unappealing and unkempt; his hair in a curled, tangled mess across his dark neck and his pale wings spotted with dirt and dust. He cast an incredulous glance toward the stranger, wondering just what kind of company he had found himself in.
The stallion's voice is rough and quiet as he responds, eliciting a dark laugh from Murdock. So, has he stumbled upon the old forest hermit? He almost thinks it to be true, but this stranger does not look old nor wise. He doesn't look stupid either, simply lost or perhaps bound to the looseness of his mind by strings that are invisible to the eye. A smile is offered to the stallion, finally portraying some hint of warmth on his dark face though his heart holds none.
"Exiling? Why?" Once more his voice is hard, a curious frown forming upon his features as he looks the other up and down. He can deduce little about the stallion, but he is not educated enough to bother with such formalities as names or childhood. He simply stares; his eyes taking in as much as he can read without opening his mouth. He is intrigued by this stranger, though he would never admit to it. Murdock hated everyone and everything, never allowing himself to grow close to something lest it be ripped away. For now he watches and waits, hoping to be given a glimpse of the other's story.
"talk talk talk"
[Bah. Short x.x The next will be longer, I promise <3]
Lift my spirit, take me higher, make me fly,
Touch the moon up in the sky
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Image Credit
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