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the Rift


[PLAGUE] Little Miss Sunshine?

Isowyn Posts: N/A
Unregistered
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#1
08-14-2013, 12:26 AM
The light colored unicorn mare entered the tall forest. This place was strange, and she could smell the other horses lurking. Some of which she knew were not of her kind. Her face turned into a disgusted look as she thought of the un-horned ones. They were so ugly. Especially those winged things that flew in the sky. Ew.

Her long graceful legs covered quite a bit of ground before she came to a clearing. A small pond laid on the ground. Fish, with magnificent colors swam through it. Some green and blue, other orange and red, but one caught her eye over the rest. It was light purple and a greenish blue color. It reminded the mare of herself. With her pearl coloring accented by the aqua specs that covered her neck and rump.

Isowyn scanned the area for any other living creatures before sticking her muzzle into the water as she drank. Her eyes still watching the one fish. It was interesting to watch them. To see the social order that even they seemed to have, and how even those fish wouldn't acknowledge the fish who didn't look like them. She chuckled slightly. That's how the world outta be.

She lifted her muzzle in the air and let out a soft whinny. Her obsidian horn matched that of the darkness that surrounded her. Something strange was happening and she didn't understand it.

Deimos the Reaper Posts: 527
Deceased atk: 7.0 | def: 12 | dam: 6.5
Stallion :: Unicorn :: 16.1 :: 7 HP: 72.5 | Buff: NUMB
Heather
#2
08-25-2013, 07:00 AM
Corrupted evening flanked by the moonlit body cast a ruinous shade over the bounty of the Threshold; he swiveled through the fine shadows, distorted and diabolical in the heathen waves of constant nocturne. Within the eternal stretch of malice and insurrection, his senses pricked, ghosting over the corporeal boundaries, writhing and withering in the slinking, sedition splendor, combing for wandering fools to destroy, for wayfaring bodies to snag and add to the denizen of the Basin. The former were for enjoyment, to pass moments in recoil and grace, to finesse the inept from the living, sever last breaths from lungs, collect final heartbeats. The latter was for power, for prestige, for strength amongst the rolling valley, the chilling winds, the rapacious caves. The Reaper’s movements took him deep into the ravenous coils of the corridors, against the rippling pool of water, along the foundation of vestal armaments springing from the alms and arms of its feverish boughs. His severe gaze pinpointed upon a frame nearby, gazing at the multi-hued fish within the pond’s hold, and he nearly left, for how does one gain such foolish intrigue in fish, when he noticed the horn spiraling from her brow, the loud whinny exuding from her vocals. The beast nearly snorted at the inanity of the moment, but chose to remain neutral, reminded himself of the necessity of a growing herd, numbers aligned for soldiers, for sleuths, for phantoms and menders. His expression remained in its near-constant nonchalance, fused by lack of emotion, taut, rigid, as his stride drove him from veiled shade and into the luminous nuance of the moon’s elongated fingertips. Unfortunately, words were a necessity in the stretch of time, and though he’d rather remain silent, study, examine, posture over the future use of the mare, he allowed his harsh, rarely-used voice to strangle the cordial air. “Deimos, of the Aurora Basin.” He paused, considered nodding his head towards the individual, solidifying some form of greeting, but then decided against it, waited for her to be worthy of the movement. Instead, the General breathed an inquiry. “What do you call for?”

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