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Post by Wolfie on Jun 5, 2011 18:59:16 GMT -5
my name is [/size] Saint Jimmy.[/font] im a son of a gun.[/center][/color] Jimmy took a drink soon after her, not that he was thirsty, but because it seemed appropriate at the time. He rose his head slowly, letting the water drip from the corners of his mouth and bead on his whiskers. He was silent for a moment before turning his gaze to meet Des's. This was actually the first time he had ever stopped to take her in, and he couldn't help but note how exotic she looked. But then again with all the mixed blood going around these days, most of the horses did and she was not exempt.
He thought back to any past relationships, and his stomach curled. Mares, he was no good with. Atleast not in anything intimate. He and his mother always fought and cursed. His past mate, who dared not now even think of, blatantly cheated on him and threw him out of the life he knew. And now here he was meeting up and getting to know some mare. What have your relationships been like? He asked, though not bothering to look at her. He wasn't sure if he was even going to listen to the answer, but it was worth breaking the silence over.
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Post by sibber-chow on Jun 5, 2011 19:44:12 GMT -5
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Her precarious thoughts were derailed as he questioned her this time. The mare pulled away from the water, licking away the droplets that clung to her muzzle, and gave him a rather deriding stare. She became quickly more interested in why he had asked that question than giving an answer. Their former conversations had been laden with social issues. This seemed like a far jump. The curiosity only kept her preoccupied for a moment or two before she decided she didn’t really care. At least he brought up something.
“Oh they’ve been every girl’s dream,” she muttered with a surprising lack of sarcasm, “you know class acts with their shit together longing to settle down into a cozy herd for the rest of their mundane lives or blockheads that thought they had a right to the whole damn isle. But, none of that’s really for me,” Desdemona had never had a steady relationship. Sure, in her excursions out of Inferno, she had met a suitor or two. They were either power hungry mongrels like her dad or good ole boys. The mongrels thought they had a right to her and preached the same shit as Orpheus, and every girl’s fantasy ‘good’ guy were just too damn boring. At least the bastards gave her a good brawl and some entertainment.
Looking down, the mare pawed at the dirt once again, but this time didn’t wait to watch the brown cloud that puffed up. Instead, her eyes met Jimmy’s. “Saint, what the hell kind of question was that, anyways?” Snorting the mare nudged mockingly at him.
characters|| Desdemona
word count|| 264
muse music|| green day
ooc|| <3
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Post by Wolfie on Jun 5, 2011 20:47:33 GMT -5
my name is [/size] Saint Jimmy.[/font] im a son of a gun.[/center][/color] Jimmy listened to her about what prospective mates she had encountered over her life, and realized how different they were from his own. His early life consisted of whores and one night stands, picking up on random mares and never learning their names and often forgetting them altogether. After all he used to be some kind of revoluntinary leader, being able to drop his name in a line of suitors must have been something really great. Now he was just a bum like his mother, a washed up has been who gave up and left. He didn't doubt Desdemona had suitors before, she certainly wasn't hard on the eyes and her personality wasn't bland.
Just wondering. I was gonna have to go praise the guy that could keep you tied down. He flashed her a grin and a teasing glint in his grey-blue eyes. He turned away and looked out as far as he could at the span of forest and brush for fear if he looked at her too long she'd become too much. There was something about this mare that was certainly different in his mind. She must be 2,000 light years away, because she's something else. You're not like other mares, y'know.
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Post by sibber-chow on Jun 5, 2011 21:28:09 GMT -5
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Desdemona gave a defiant toss of her crown as she took his teasing as a compliment regardless of how he meant; the mare took pride in the fact that she wasn’t easy to ‘tie down’ whether it be in a relationship or any other aspect of her life. Her less than modest display was cut short as she noticed him turn away. For a moment, she thought he was leaving her, and it bothered her surprisingly enough. But, he did not make any effort to leave, not that she would have allowed him to get too far. She’d decided he was too entertaining to leave in the past just yet. Ears shifted as he spoke again, and that cocky little smirk slithered across her lips.
Most mares were complacent to giggle and fluster at a compliment like that, but as he had said, she wasn’t like the majority. The painted fae moved back in front of the stallion with a self-amusing little prance in her gait. “Well, off course, I’m not.” The words brazenly slipped from her lips as she gave a teasing wink. With a light laughter, she traveled back to the water’s edge and away from her counterpart sans the strutting. After a few minutes of staring at the cool waters, she jumped in. Of course, the water was only hock high and did little but cause a slight splash. Looking over her shoulder, she offered a smile whether he was looking or not and said, “but, I have to admit you aren’t like any of the block-headed brutes I’ve met before, but having heard my track record, I’m sure you could have guessed that, hm?”
characters|| Desdemona
word count|| 278
muse music|| green day
ooc|| <3
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Post by Wolfie on Jun 5, 2011 22:06:37 GMT -5
my name is [/size] Saint Jimmy.[/font] im a son of a gun.[/center][/color] He watched her go about her playfulness with a somewhat blank, glazed over look. He wasn't actually watching her - he was thinking about things again. She warped his mind and made him follow stereotypical emotions, and typically he'd be tyrant over that, but not now. For now he stood around and took the backseat instead of making some kind of scene or demanding the spotlight, allowing her to be the main focus. Interesting, I guess I'm not like others. He wasn't sure what to say about that one as she turned his previous statement back around to him. He had always thought of himself in his own classifications of anarchy and disagreement, but he guessed against other stallions he wasn't the same. He wasn't power hungry just egocentric, and he wasn't goody two shoes either, not even close.
I guess we're both just special, huh. A sudden burst of curiosity exploded in his mind like a super nova - what did she think of him? And there very little did he ever care about who thought of what and why, he wondered what he stood as in her mind. So what do you think of me, then?
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Post by sibber-chow on Jun 6, 2011 5:04:22 GMT -5
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The mare waded through the short waters as the stallion mused about his uniqueness or something of that manner. She’d gotten lost in the conversation, but found her way back when he questioned her. “Huh? Oh,” the mare looked towards the stallion seeming to seriously contemplate his query, and she was. In fact, Des found herself thinking more about the question than she would have liked to admit. It wasn’t that she was particularly against normal emotions like Jimmy – the only thing she was really against was the idea of succumbing to someone else and in the process losing her ability to be her and do whatever she wanted.
The more she thought about the brute the more she realized she was drawn to him in some manner. And, it wasn’t his aesthetics that drove the attraction, although she had noticed from the very beginning he was a looker with an angel face. She’d met many handsome brutes in her young days though. No, there was something else, something she couldn’t quite identify, that drove this attraction. She felt a connection within his thought process and unwillingness to yield to societal expectations. They were a minority, him and her.
“Jimmy, the thing is that I think just what I said. You are unlike anyone else I have met,” the mare said in all seriousness as she waded back upon dry land. Des looked him in the eyes as she continued, “you’re a minority, a rebellious spirit, and a pretentious jackass at times.” The mare gave him a quick smile before diverting her gaze temporarily. Staring at the trees, she recollected her thoughts. “But, I doubt I’d still be around if you were any other way.” That was as close to gushing about her emotions as the saint was likely to get from Des, and she doubted he would mind too much. He seemed as intolerant of the boring, unnecessary details as her.
The mare narrowed her eyes accusingly as she suddenly focused her sights back on the brute. Snorting, she nudged him again, although this time with more force. “Hold on a second, you got off easy – getting away with a ‘your not like other mares’ while I spilled my guts,” sort of. Part of the mare was teasing with Jimmy as she had many times past, but another part of her was really mad. Des felt almost like she had been jipped! Normally, she said what she felt without shame, but for some reason, she felt vulnerable and didn’t like it one damn bit.
characters|| Desdemona
word count|| 425
muse music|| green day
ooc|| <3
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Post by Wolfie on Jun 6, 2011 11:48:57 GMT -5
my name is [/size] Saint Jimmy.[/font] im a son of a gun.[/center][/color] Jimmy watched her, only half-listening. He guessed he already knew what she thought of him - some kind of crazy hellbent horse. That's all he really was down deep, some kind of neurotic melodramtic fool. But she seemed to appeal to these traits most, dubbing them the reasons for her stay. If these could make her stay awhile, why hadn't it made them stay? That's why she was different. That's why Jimmy thought they were kindred somehow. Only a mare like this one would stick around for everything Jimmy stood for, and not just stay on his good days. She seemed like she'd always tolerate him.
Suddenly she questioned him again, asking for explanation on what he meant before. Jimmy rarely spelled things out, he was pretty vague and expected everyone to already know. He watched her every motion for awhile, pondering. In one motion he stepped until his pelt was nearly touching hers. He moved his muzzle to her ear and whispered Wonder what I meant, then? He stepped back, letting his muzzle trail down her tiara before he backed up, giving her some space. You manage to tolerate what others cannot. Most mares I meet are whores or plain stupid. Or boring. You aren't any of these things. He wanted to draw closer to her again but he did not. Her smell stayed strong in his mind, and he tried not to focus on it's intoxication.
He wondered if he could leave this one like he left all the others, and for the first time in a long while, he hesitated, wondering if he could. For knowing her only a short time he already felt ties to her, emotions he wondered if he had ever even felt for his first mate.. after all she was just a whore, too, his old mate. She wasn't interesting. This one was. Desdemona was like sweet poison burning through.
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Post by sibber-chow on Jun 6, 2011 13:19:08 GMT -5
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Whatever petty feelings of rage had been there had slipped from her mind as quickly as they came leaving her to just stand and stare as he watched her in return. The smallest part of her seemed to regret saying anything now that the moment had gone, but this couldn’t be so. Desdemona had not recalled a time when she felt any remorse for saying, well, anything – although it was highly likely had she ever she would have just discarded the feeling as she was now. It left a bitter taste in her mouth and a sickening feeling in her gut, and she refused to accept that it was real, and, so, it wasn’t.
Des’s ears perked as his sudden movement startled her, yet she did not move away. There was an odd comfort felt in the proximity to a stallion that should have been viewed far too hazardous to himself as well as others. He was the guy that every momma talked about and society trained you not be. But, society had failed its ‘obligation’ to Jimmy and maybe it was because Des didn’t grow with a mom that she lived without warning.
Before she’d realized it, the distance between them grew greater as his muzzle trailed down the side of her face leaving a tingling and unnerving sensation behind in its trail. And, as his touch faded, she held her breath as if doing so would keep his scent trapped within her – in some way disallowing him to leave. She didn’t know she’d ever be able to give him up, and it began to bother her less and less to feel this way, as she desensitized the emotion. But, finally, she had to breathe out, and her pale eyes refocused on the brute as he spoke again. She’d known many of these things about herself, but it became an entirely different feeling as he recognized them. It instilled her with a different sort of pride, although a slightly less conceited one as she normally felt, slightly.
Deciding she hadn’t been ready to allow him his space, she drew in to close the distance again. The mare pressed the flat of her skull to his, smiling as his scent became trapped in her nostrils once more. “Well, good, we’ve established we can, for some damn reason, bear each other’s company,” she mused with the same smile and her usual attitude. The mare stepped back, having sustained her need for the time being. The mare’s head tilted suddenly as she began to wonder more about the mysterious rebel, St. Jimmy. “You said you had a herd once – well, what ever happened to that?” The mare didn’t consider that she might be stepping over personal boundaries, and if she was, well, he’d tell her and she would leave it that; it was just that simple. But, she thirsted to know more, to try and understand a creature that she doubted she ever would. Why had he left that herd? Had it been a situation like hers? She didn’t think so; he’d said his herd wasn’t like most these days. So, why would he leave? And, why did she want to know what made him tick so badly? Snorting, she stopped questioning herself – it seemed a moot point to continue. The thoughts were already in her head and there wasn’t a damn thing she could do about that.
characters|| Desdemona
word count|| 566
muse music|| green day and tegan & sara
ooc|| if only i could have thought of a 100 more words.
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Post by Wolfie on Jun 6, 2011 14:40:10 GMT -5
my name is [/size] Saint Jimmy.[/font] im a son of a gun.[/center][/color] Though Jimmy's thoughts were spiriling around the mare, as soon as she mentioned his old herd, they screeched to a halt. His gaze lowered as he began to wonder what he would tell her. His gut wrenched just thinking about what he once held, but he shook it away to again catch Desdemona's eye. Nothing can last forever. His tone was somewhat harsh and distant - as if he was telling someone else in his past. Don't come back. Don't even think about me! He stepped toward her again, this time almost agressive like, but as soon as his pelt touched her own, he slowed and rested his maw on the crest of her neck. Sometimes Jimmy felt half alive, but even when Des pushed the envelope, his soul was at rest with her around. He needed the warmth of her body to calm him again.
He stayed like this only for a heartbeat before he stepped back and began to walk away, at first hesitant, but when he gained confidence again, his tempo quickened. After this he was unsure where he'd appear next, but he knew one thing - he disliked being idle so long like this. He walked away with intent, however, as if he did indeed have somewhere he was destined to be. Whever a saint was needed he'd be there, and maybe it was time to start living again anyway. He used to be a hell raiser and since his boyhood days he had done not much of it since, so as he left Desdemona behind him, he began to wonder what he would do to create that spark he once had.
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