|
|
Post by Storeh on Jan 19, 2011 23:19:11 GMT -5
[atrb=border,1,true][atrb=width,394,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true] | [bg=gray]
The wonderland captivation did not harbor the invitation to extend its enchantment upon the whimsical wondering of the emaciated stallion, leaving his mind shattered as well as defenseless in the folds of falling ivory, collecting upon his thin pelting, settling with the desire of everlasting frost. It was a moment without motion, stillness without seeming equal as the wind sang tales through the valley, lacing into the strands of his tangled whipcord as the statuette did nothing for movement. Was life as beautiful as the illusion it portrayed to those who were ignorant? Ignorance was bliss, or so it had been said by many, as well as something the stallion himself lacked. The past was a riddle unbroken by the ages, haunting as well as daring to splinter weakened souls. Stranger was such a soul, broken long ago. Live loved to rake its talons across his bony frame, longing to draw out his life. The pale horse was shadowing, but the shade offered more comfort. Maybe one day it would all end. White noise. Without thought. That is what a heaven was.
An angels touch was not longed for, but merely considered as finally he raised unporportional head to extend bottomless gaze into the heavens. Calling for salvation was one thing, and he would never do such a thing. So many had suffered, and he was not going to die when so many would take his place. The shimmering cascade of flakes was almost distracting, though they settled upon him with fierce kiss, making him know soon movement would be needed. An exhale racked frame as he strode farther into the confines of valley, pressing in with the illusion of clostraphobia. Winter was merciless, filled with malice as time was concerned. The days were endless, night blurring the borders of life itself. So many victims.
Should he bugle with the hopes of company? The better question was he himself able of such a trumpet? Hardly. The sound itself would kill him with the effort. Shivering, he needed shelter, something Belle Valle would not be able to provide. He would have to make due, not a doubt. The icy muscles groaned with effort of keeping the withering equine in movement as hollow orbs scanned for something unneeded. Each breath was torture, burning holes in his internal channels then freezing paths. Life is but a dream for the dead.
|
[/color] Muse: Impossible.
OOC: ...
Music: My Chemical Romance {Anything and Everything} [/td][/tr][tr][td][/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
|
|
|
Post by Wolfie on Jan 21, 2011 12:51:00 GMT -5
 HIT 'EM RIGHT BETWEEN THE EYES !!!
Andar.
[/color][/center][/blockquote][/blockquote] Andar had unofficially stolen Taj's land.The small cream painted colt ran off after there confrontation and disappeared, never again to be found. So soon after Andar scouted his lands for any weak points, he marked his territory heavily and left to recruit members for his herd. More like an army - he planned on recruiting two strong, bloodthirsty stags as his right and left hands. Then lower-ranking stallions, less willing but just as powerful, as warriors. Then mares, pile them on, to disguise the army as a normal herd. Keep the breeding restricted, kill any who disobeyed. Then, take over the whole isle. Few stood in his way. Perhaps Orpheus, and his new mate, Daniaya, who fought for the same rights over Isola Dei Dei - but Andar was older, and wiser. He had plotted and mapped out this war for many years, and it was now time to act.
He had been hungrily grazing the claiming lands for a stallion to recruit as an ally. He had met a hellhound by the calling of Insanity, who highly dismissed him, and he had also spoken with a naive thin bay stag. His hopes were high, but patience was wearing thin. Suddenly, however, his blazing amber eyes caught glimpse of a midnight ebony stag, alone, cold. Andar smiled and made his way over, bobbing his head with respect.
Be you alone? Looking for mares for your land, are you? You a loner? He stopped before the stag, giving him plenty of space. It is frigid out here, is it not? Belle Valle welcome none. However, I am king of a land full of evergreens. Shelter, warmth of trees. Could it be your home? Could, but it is not given to just anyone.
He lowered his cream streaked maw to the snow and snorted. You be fitting my requirements. Looking for a right hand man, I am. You look perfect.
He walked away slightly, and looked back. Be it your choice. Come with me, perfect home, good plan. Or die here, alone, cold. Maybe you be saved at last minute by light mare? Perfect love story? Pety. Decision be yours all in all.
[/blockquote][/blockquote] |
|
|
|
Post by silverbelle on Feb 10, 2011 23:11:29 GMT -5
All is not lost in the eyes of those who still believe there is reason *~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~*~* Diamond's of cold fire braced her form in a shivering thrill, seeming to cling to her for life support before dripping away to the muddy Earth that appeared below her cream colored hooves. The fire to keep moving burned through her mucles as they pulled taught upon tendon and bone to keep her moving with heavy steps. The icy kiss of the wind caressed her lungs in a stabbing pain, almost as if it wished to destroy her very life right then and there.
Bejeweld by the icy flakes, her rich tan coloration stood out as if it were a flame wishing to ignite to rid of these pesky frozen sky tears. Cranium was low and tilted to one side to block the the winds from striking her bodice, though to little avail. Dark hue whipcord was pulled close, though numerous of strands whipped about to smack against her hind appendages with a sharp sting, making her move more swiftly.
Exhausted like a fire to water, steam and mist shot out of her nostrils with each breath taken. The tips of her ears felt like ice statues and unable to move. Her mane was wet and stuck to the nape of her already dampened neck. The feathers that had been weaved within the strands of both whipcord and mane twisted and turned around in a dance of death against the chill. The mare came to a halt, only breifly for having scented someone else near. As swift as the scent came, it drifted off to be replaced by more sharp chills.
As much as it hurt, the mare inhaled a deathly breath and let out a laboured call to see if someone was truely their, or if it was her mind playing tricks on her from her being out in this chill for so long. |
|
