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Post by Byrdlet on Sept 11, 2012 20:27:04 GMT -7
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The night sky swallowed the lands making everything appear black and ominous. The moon failed to reveal herself this night, the sky overcast with a heavy blanket of clouds. The pitch demon peered through the thick blackness, orange orbs cutting deep into his surroundings. For the moment, he was alone. He heard no one and could smell no one. Tarzi enjoyed moments like this. The quiet calm of midnight was the only thing he really had for himself.
Tarzi recalled the last brawl he had found himself emerged in. It had been some time since he had fought a battle and it left the stallion feeling somewhat stir crazy. But the last stand off he had been a part of was a most unpredictable one. He never would have guessed that he would ever find himself in a brawl between he and his two sons, Ronove and Balthazar. It had started at simply trying to make a point. The next thing he knew, the boys fought back and Tarzi's own pride was too much to bear. He could not bring himself to back down. They had all left with their own battle scars. Tarzi's left lobe was stripped of the short, black hairs that once sprouted from it. Ronove had balded his hark with his dull teeth. His ear was grey in hue, light scrape-like scars lining the soft skin. Then there was the large, smooth gash on his underside where Balthazar had bitten a chunk from his body. The lesion was small in comparison to other bite marks he had received but there was still nothing pleasant about it.
Part of Tarzi regretted the battle. They were his sons and as much as he hid it from the world, he loved his offspring. But---the other part felt that it had served them right and they had deserved the harsh punishment. The fiery gazed beast would be the first to admit that his sons had given him a run for his money. He had been proud of them for standing their ground. It was proof that he did something right in their upbringing. If it ever came to be for one of them, or for both, they would be able to handle themselves in the face of battle to protect what was rightfully theirs. He would never admit it but he often wondered where his sons were.
The ebon stallion inhaled deeply, hind leg cocked as he relaxed in the beneath a stone shroud. Air passed through his nares and over the now slightly gray whiskers that sprouted from his stern mug. It was true that he had aged. Anyone who looked at him could see it. The brute was 11 years old and he felt as though he had accomplished a great deal thus far in his life. But he could not deny that he felt as though he were still hungry for something new. Just when Carnelian orbs fell behind heavy, black lids, they shot back open once more at the sudden sound of someone---or something nearby.
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Post by Missparadox on Sept 12, 2012 7:24:15 GMT -7
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Sloan
"A beautiful mess, inside and out"
The wind was wailing and in its wails Sloan could here the crackling of fire and the screams of the helpless. It brought with it a faint smell of smoke and in her minds eye she could see through the darkness and see into the flames. They surrounded her, moved with her making the otherwise ominous night alight with happenings. It wasn't often that these flash backs occurred, in fact she had not had one since arriving here not even after the most recent natural disaster.
She had begun her descent with the images playing before, unable to stop them and incapable of removing them she chose instead to risk her life. The climb in the dark had almost worked, but here near the top with the with toying at her tassels and pulling at her. Well she had no way to escape it anymore, no way but down. Down and out, out running them at last once and for all? Just as those thoughts played havoc through her brain box the coloured femme leapt the final step and was met with a level plain. Here it was not so bad. Here the wind seemed to lessen.
The scent of another.... a stud, was carried to her almost instantly. Blinded by the nights covering Sloan did not attempt to search him out. Instead she tilted her skull to the side, all memories and flash backs thrown to another place, for another time when she had nothing better to concern herself with. This was a game she knew well, one that forced her to use all her whit all her smarts. It left no room for self pity or guilt for past events.
It was with confident light strides that the femme moved now. The wind no longer a bother, yet still it toyed with her hair lifting it from her skin. Her neck was arched and her skull was level with her back, not arrogantly high or submissively low it was just so. Confidently she strode forward lips twitching and nostrils flared as she sought him out. Her eyes begun to adjust to the surroundings and she was almost on him by the time he came into focus.
He was of the darkest blacks the only thing that stood him out from the bordering rock was his bright fire coloured eyes. They alone brought shivers to the edge of her spine. She could not see or tell much more under this cover and perhaps that was how he wanted it. Unfazed by the silence that she had allowed to lapse since wondering into his path, or the danger he may Pose, Sloan instead moved to saunter around him. Her movements were far from airy, she was far from ignorant. They were calculated and yet light. She moved deliberately as if this was a planned meeting, as if they were more than two strangers, two unknown creatures covered in nights darkness.
She moved only as far as his hip before pausing. She was of a far enough distance still that his skull and eyes were still in focus. Introductions were no longer her strong point and beyond the obvious necessity of them, she was rather ready to render them useless all together. However as time begun to tick over and the silence begun to grow stale Sloan moved so that she was once again standing before him. It was instinct more than learning that suggested she should lower her gaze and stance. So it was with a slightly submissive pose that she spoke. Yet her words were spoken with anything but a submissive tone. They were not flirtatious or childish, instead they were confident and full of some hidden knowing, a promise or secret?
" I was not expecting to find another this high up on a night such as this" She did not ask for his name or give hers in turn. Something was keeping her from speaking, from divulging. It had been so long since she had even spoken to another, let alone forced out an introduction. Yet outwardly these seemed to come naturally and if she would just let herself go she knew it would flow back easily. This game, this prize, the test. It was so very playable if only she gave over to her internal desires.
oocl Byrd, if you are incapable of replying I completely understand. I can't get into her head. it bounces, and she talks. None of my characters talk. I keep wanting to make her silent, but she wouldn't be this silent this early. Ahhhhhhhh so bouncy, paragraphs everywhere, no flowyness. grrrr
Still love me after this.
Age: Six
Breed: Stock horse x QH
height: 16hh
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Post by Byrdlet on Sept 13, 2012 5:29:24 GMT -7
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The black stallion watched beneath the lip of the rock wall as a mare soon approached. A twisted grin turned his maw upwards. Usually the beast relished in silence, hearing only the kiss of dead air circulate about his pricked, obsidian lobes. But the current reverence of his days over the past several months was enough to make his ebon skin crawl. His life had completely changed and Tarzi was eager to start fresh. Tarzi inhaled deeply, rib cage rising and falling again in heavy anguish much resembling the steady breaths of a sleeping dragon. He waited for the essa to make her way closer to him as he continued to stand completely still, red eyes burning.
Carnelian gaze lifted to view the sky which was lightly dappled with twinkling stars. Dusk was heavy this summer evening, night whiskng over the sky like a velvet blanket dousing the light of the orange sun down to weak embers. He closed his eyes and took another deep breath. The strong scent of the mare before him suddenly sent his mind whirring. She was a stranger and Tarzi did not expect to recognize anyone he knew in this foreign land. She crept closer and closer still until the stallion could get a clearer view of her frame. She was a painted buckskin vixen with the most peculiar markings he had ever seen.
Onyx flints pawed the earth impatiently, growing frustrated with the mare as she clearly took her time to reach closer proximity. He heard a faint voice suddenly which made the black beast's ears prick forward in attention. Her words sounded rather unsure and Tarzi could sense the apprehension in her tone, as was to be expected. He had been approached by these kind before----afraid and yet foolish enough to play with fire anyways. He slinked towards her when he knew she would come no closer, a sly smirk lacing his ebon lips, grey whiskers sprouting from his stern mug. "Then why else would you be up here, Lovely?" He cooed, his gruff voice groping like demon hands in the shadows. He stood a fair distance away from the painted vixen, stance proud and not revealing a hint of worry as a gust of wind ripped around him. "You sought something on your trek up here." His voice scratched at the air like finger nails on a chalk board. He watched her intently, extremely curious to learn her business here in these lands and already planning to take her back to Hazy Everglades with him.
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