scrimpy
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Post by scrimpy on Jun 3, 2008 22:40:56 GMT -5
Standing alone was one tree. His gaze looked over the tiny field with a saddened expression. Time and time again this old fellow had watched the world pass him by. He saw his friends grow old and wither away just like the other organic beings. He saw brilliant sites of life being created, and also saw the relief of death. This tree saw life's delicate balance at work. Yet he stood here alone, watching the world pass him by once again. His great roots felt the familiar pitter patter of hooves kissing the sweet grass and rich dirt. His great leaves rustled in the wind as he greeted the approaching, lone stallion. Judging from the slow, relaxed pace this beast was not in any hurry nor had any expectations today. His muscles that usually flexed vibrantly at any given time remained chilled beneath the tight skin. The half close, deep aqua eyes revealed him rather far away from this reality. The painfully solemn face turned away from the great tree, ashamed of not being scrutinized by the tree but himself - the other self. Exhaling a deep, carbon enriched puff of air, Ery turned away from the tree entirely. His tail rested against his thighs, only moving with the wind. The face hung low to the ground with his forelock obscuring his eyes.
'I shouldn't be like this,' the stallion murmured inside his head. 'I shouldn't do any of this. It's not right.' He inhale the sweet scents filled with much more than just fragrant plants. The yearning scent of fresh, new mares in season filled his nares, sending those d**n urges to his brain. The fond feeling of pleasure wanted so much to fill him again. The feeling of another's body heat against him, and the feeling that for once he was in control seemed awe too good to pass up. Ery's pink tongue rang across his lips as he dreamed of that high, of that haven. Slowly the grey hooves began to pick up as if he was hypnotized. The fresh scent, so plentiful was calling to his senses. His eyes open as he hoped to see a mare, but all he saw was the rolling plains. The scent would be from miles away, far from him; and near a herd most likely. This is depressing, he said to himself, rather displeased. 'An all new low. Those calm eyelids became narrowed as the muscles beneath the tight-laced skin began to twitch with tension - threatening to break. His breaths became faster as the heart rate elevated. Screaming out he lunged forward in a ball of rage, striking out at the low lying and fallen limbs of and from the tree. Raging hooves snapped them easily, and yellow-aged teeth devoured the nearest leaves only to spit them out. The built of energy needed to be released! There was no mare for him to calm himself down, and so the tree became his victim. The hooves scrapped and carved out small holes within the truck of the tree.
Landing harshly on the ground he breathed heavily in and out. The muscles beneath his skin relaxed, freed of their energy. Opening those fierce, unloving eyes Ery moved away from his scene of torture. His path followed that of the previous equines, even though he was blissfully unaware of it. No, his mind was once again wrapped around himself, thinking of how pathetic this was of a light leader. It was against all moral code - against logical thought! 'When will I learn? he asked himself, pleading for the answer. 'But you don't want to learn because you love the feeling of it. You can't escape this high. Ery sighed, unable to find himself at rest as he entered the hallowed out center of the Sequoia. "And I'll never give it up," he mumbled to himself proudly. Holding his head up, he began to once again push that guilt away. Erysichthon, or the true Ery, began to engulf the body taking control of the limbs. His aggressive alpha posture returned as pride traveled through his veins. 'And I'm d**n proud of it! he yelled confidently to himself within the confounds of his mind.
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Trya
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Post by Trya on Jun 6, 2008 20:30:39 GMT -5
The sounds of life drifted down, making their way through the various branches and leaves. The music floated on the warm air and into the swiveling auds of an equine. Come, let us examine this creature, quickly now, before she leaves us. Ah, a mare, young in age but possessing an almost surreal and expected beauty. Expected? Not at all, peer closer and you will see what we mean..Three scars marr her perfect physique. All are hidden but one, an inch of the jagged mark is visible along the base of her boa. How did she get these dreadful scars? Ask and perhaps the femme will voice the whole tale, do not give in to hope however, she never speaks of her freshest markings. The name bestowed upon her suits her quite well, covered in a coat of charcoal Sable rings true. Not even the tiniest trace of another color taints her velveteen bodice. Eyes gazing on Sable's Arabian figure will notice of course the trademark dished face narrowing down into a muzzle capable of drinking from a tea cup..whatever those are. Next an elegant crest to hold up her delicate cranium, muscular shoulders connect slender pillars all forming a most lovely creature. Enough talk of appearances now, the fae we spy is not vain.
The symphony provided by the animals nearby soothed her, relaxed the tenseness and stress building inside her being. Sable, unsure of her surroundings pondered what to do next with her life. Find a herd? Explore love and settle down with a mate? Raise a foal or two? Sighing the vix knew that she could not, no neutral herds existed anymore, not where she came from. She doubted that a dark or light herd even would allow her to keep her freedom...her ability to remain neutral and not take up a side in the times of battle. Not in her nature to do so. This became her reasoning whenever questioned as to why no side was ever supported by Sable, it simply went against her nature. Not necessarily the truth, but the fae could not bring herself to even remotely care. Asking her to care about light or dark was like asking an elephant to not be such a massive beast. It could not be done.
Leaving the security of the foliage, hooves left their impressions in a field, even from the edge of the land a huge tree could be seen, its branches spread far beyond the possible and yet they stretched out proudly. It would be here that she stopped to rest, not caring what time of day it happened to be, Sable felt exhausted. Her wounds had not yet healed completely, the three scars remained fresh. Sound sleep and plenty of food, that is what she needs. What does she want? A safe place, a terra where none could touch her, not one equine could lay a dagger on her flesh. That is her image of heaven. Terror filled her at the mere sight of a quadruped rearing, breath shallowed, heart stopped, orbs widened. The femme desired a feeling of protection to wash over her so that she might bask in the rays of it, for a time at least. None had ever managed to refuse the temptation of abusing her for too long, it sang out to them drawing them in ready and waiting to crush the life out of her. So far, Sable had managed to survive the beatings, the last time around nearly killed her, never again would she make the same mistake.
Continuing along, she formed a path through the swaying greens, growing steadily closer to her mark. The hollowed out trunk, an excellent hiding spot for the fae to rest. Entering the darker interior, she called out timidly, "Hello? Is anyone in here?" Pressing her bodice against the side tightly, reddened pools scanned around, her words echoing back, almost in a haunting manner. It seemed as though none had staked their claim on the spot tonight and hooves searched out the perfect location to lay down.
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scrimpy
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Vacant Mind
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Post by scrimpy on Jun 8, 2008 0:34:12 GMT -5
The gods are sighing, watching the scene down below them unfold. The tree serves as their messenger for today, telling them of the actions these two are about to make. The trees soft leaves hear their whisper, their every thought that their body thinks. And the bark is its eyes for it feels where the equines are inside it's hollow body. No, this tree is much more than just a tree, it is a land mark among equines that serves to intertwine fates for either the better, or more likely the worse. Today might be for the better considering the prime male was still distracted by that little light conscience voice that was yearning - no, begging - him to be a good little lad, just for today. And that little voice was irritating those primal urges, making him subconsciously grind his molars. His body did not display this displeasure in his mind, instead the body seemed to take this break by relaxing the muscles, allowing the blood to flow more smoothly through the many passage ways in his body. It was a half-sleep state to be exact. The slow intake of oxygen, and slow exhale of carbon dioxide was cleansing him. It was during this time that his ears began to twitch. This triggered senses leading up to the brain. Instantly his body was in motion. Shifting his weight smoothly, the brindle stallion moved towards the sound, guided only by the little light that filtered through the entrance.
The pitter pattering of hooves against wood and grass was unmistakable. The tree above him recorded these sounds for further knowledge. The soft rustle of the leaves was a neither a warning nor a welcoming sound as it echoed within the wooden walls. This small breeze created just enough friction in the atmosphere to lift his mane up with his every step. It bounced lightly and fluidly. The ivory tail swishes back and fourth gently to deter the annoyances such as flies. His creamy hooves kissed the ground with grace and speed of a trained and experienced fighter. Ery's deep blue eyes surveyed the scene, finding only one thing out of place : a shadow. And where that shadow was came the scent of a lavishing feminine. The smell was divine to his nares, enchanting really. This smell was sweet like floral, but sour like an early green apple. It was a perfect mixture that caused him to come walking up - more like strutting - to this fine ebony arabian. And when he first laid his eyes on this fine mare, the game plan began to grow inside his head despite the little angel's plea. Instead of smirking, he flashed a dazzling grin to this feminine.
The tree moaned softly in the wind, cursing Ery. The ignorant equine ignored the wind, only finding himself trapped with the perfect image of the mare. As she spoke, he only grinned wider and with much more ferocity. "I'm here my dear," he spoke. "From noon to sunset every day." Emerging into the light, his coat shown brilliantly in the limited the light. The stripes were vivid and envious, full of pride. His eyes held a different tale as he walked to the feminine. They were mystical as they tried to pierce the fae's heart. Above all, they were gentle and understanding; that's what they conveyed at least. They were the perfect image for any stallion whom respected mares with just as much, if not more than a stallion. The pair of eyes traveled over her pelt, just wondering what it would feel like beneath him. Gazing up into her face, he watched her. Bowing his head in respect to her he spoke smoothly,"My name is Ery, Erysichthon." He lifted his head. "And who are, my mysterious mistress?"
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Trya
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Post by Trya on Jun 9, 2008 21:56:18 GMT -5
Do you see me? I am a filly. Wandering. Ceaselessly. Weak. Tired. Neutral. I do not belong anywhere. I never have. My sire and dam died when I had only seen two winters. My brother? Long gone. Not dead, but not among the living. A loner. Much like myself. I do not crave the company of others often. It ends in disaster..for me. For my figure. Do you see my scars? The three gashes marring my otherwise perfect flesh? Flawless. It is what I once was, what I can never be again. Do I want my perfection back? No. Why should I? My sleek pelt would receive new marks. It would be like they never vanished in the first place. Can your pools spy my being now? I am a mare. The scars seen earlier? Freshly placed actually. You see, I made the mistake of fooling an entire herd of demons and their wenches that I myself belonged to the dark race. It succeeded for quite some time. I thought they believed me. No doubts. Apparently a witch spied on me. I happened to be discussing my plan, with myself. She overheard..and reported. She desired but one thing: to be bred by the leader. How did she plan on doing this? Ratting out a supposed "traitor."
Ah the wind. A pleasant sensation. Tassels flying. Swirling about. Leaves to frame one's visage. Glorious. I rejoice in the small thing's in life. They are all I have. Truly. The sibling I mentioned? I miss him. My orbs have not seen his form in quite some time. I would give most anything to just see him. Even from a distance. Something moves. Causes a disturbance in the atmosphere. A warning from nature. A shudder passes over me. Foreboding. Ominous. Brooding. I hesitate. Maybe I should leave? No. I refuse to run this time. Sleep calls to me. The rustling of leaves lulls my senses to slumber. It's all I want now. Rest, sweet, wonderful rest. Food. That is necessary too. I have not eaten much lately. My figure has slimmed much. Though I have never been over weight at all, always lean but well muscled. Lately? I have scarcely eaten, but still, I remain lovely. Curved in all the right places. Slender in others. A noise. The padding of hooves. Entering my temporary domain. Home. Home? No. What am I saying? I have no home. The scent entering my paper thins..stallion.
Sable watches, wary and weary. He approached. The fae visibly trembles. Terror captured her frenzied heart. He grins...she snorts and tosses her dial. No, please don't. A low whimper escapes between her lips. The vixen backs away slowly, orbs wide with fear and never leaving his carcass. His voice dances toward her pinned audits. My dear? Sable continued to stare, speechless. Not because of his beauty, but because she remained frozen to where she stood. Trying not to panic too much, she forced herself to focus on breathing properly. An impossible task. Her Arab form was no match for him. His steady gaze caressed her figure, causing a shiver to slither down her back. The fae's rear now pressed against the side of the hollow, no more room to back away. Stupid on her part and she knew it. Observing carefully, no reaction was given in response the dip of his muzzle. Bowing to her meant nothing. Does not impress her. At all. Erysichthon? Ery is better. Finding her vocals, she coughes twice before managing to speak. "Sable." Moving away from him even more did no good. Only scraped her hindquarters as they pushed into the wall provided by the giant tree. She needed to breathe, the room began to swim. Lightheaded. Her lids slid shut. She sank to the ground. All became dark.
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scrimpy
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Vacant Mind
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Post by scrimpy on Jun 10, 2008 12:18:54 GMT -5
The gods are groaning like this tree. They're tired of him never changing, never finding someone to change those d**n ways. He is a light, suppose to be the prime example of how equines should live, but instead he is two-faced. To stallions they see only the noble leader with many, many females about him; among the mares, they get a glimpse of that other face. No, Ery charms them first naturally. Then when they are in his grip, and think he deeply loves them, he'll turn and use them just like a dark. Oh so hypocritical. And if another stallion were to ever to that to a mare, he'd kill them. Flat out. So why does Ery make this exception to himself? Because he believes he has that right. He protects them, loves them, provides them with a lovely home. The stallion only asks of one small little thing? Is it so hard to reward such a good leader? It shouldn't be. But the gods wish that maybe there would be someone out there to restore those morals. Bring them back alive and well, make him into the leader that shall be remember for an eternity. Let's make his insides reflect his outer appearance: beautiful and unique. Let's make this stallion into the god he believes he is. Let's make others believe he is a god reincarnated into the body of a stallion.
Ery's footsteps fell light into a soft beat, till that soft beat quieted into nothing. When the sound refused to be audible, he form stopped. His eyes studied her, finding he was - was scaring her?! How could that be? He had done nothing wrong. The respectful manners were thrown aside so quickly! How dare she!? How dare her! Does she not know how lucky she is to have stumbled upon such a noble and divine creature? It was as if she had read his mind, his past, and all the intentions he had ever for a mare. This shock of course was kept inside his mind. The outside appearance was calm and compassionate as well as puzzled. His head tilted to the side in confusion, a little quirk that many found to be cute or adorable. Tossing his forelock over his ear, he left his hooves move him one step closer. He meant no harm.... for now. A soft whimper left her body as she pressed her rump against the wood. She did read equines well, very well. Watching her, he smiled lightly. Sable. It did have a certain ring to it. He liked it. Not only would it be easy to remember - oh yes he forgot most mares' names within minutes, that is why he always has his little nicknames such as deary and love for them - but he genuinely like it. It is hard these days to find such simple names. They are long and complicated. He even resents his own name to some degree. How is one suppose to remember how to pronounce Erysichthon?
His attention is diverted as she backs up even more. He takes a step back naturally, trying to give her room to be comfortable. Maybe let her have an escape route if she pleases. After all her form is very lithe, and would have no problem running away from most stallions, but what most did not expect is that Ery enjoys the chase of a mare. He keeps up easily with his fine bloodlines. Long or short it doesn't matter. He'll catch up to you eventually, and then charm you. The ears atop his head perk forward as her breathing becomes more erratic. Is - is there something this crossbred stallion did wrong? Maybe it was his devilish looks taking affect. He did have that side effect with his coat, but for some reason he doubted it. For once the egotistical stallion put that side away as his eyes widen - astonished! The classic rolls of the into the head, falling of the eyelids, and slinking posture all registered in his mind. Her body became gravities toy as she slunk to the ground like a dead man. His jaw partially opened, but did not speak. Something else besides him must have triggered this, but he did feel as if he had contributed to the fainting of this young and lavishing ebon' mare. It was strange for him to feel guilt, almost foreign. But this alien feeling triggered that good, the old better self to take control while his primal side was in shock.
Concern eyes washed over her body as he rounded her. She came up to her fallen backside, leaving an escape route on the other side for her. Bending his crown down, he took in her scent. It filled his head with thoughts and emotions of the pleasures. They swelled in his mind, but the better side fought through the haze. There was not time for this now! No! She was on the ground. Slowly he nudged her with his head, trying to force those horrid thoughts out of his mind. He had too. She was on the ground! But the best got a hold of him as they subtly commanded him nuzzle her between the ears. How could he refuse? He liked how her mane felt, and how her smell made him feel as if he was invincible. His own heart began to pound in his chest. Wake up! he wanted to scream. Ery wanted her up, on her legs. Moving around, he positioned himself near her head. Looking up at the top of the tree, Ery searched for the answer, hoping it would popped out of thin air. No answers came. Taking in a deep, anxious breath, he bent his head down once again. "Wake up, please Sable" he whispered, pleading.[/color]
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Trya
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Post by Trya on Aug 11, 2008 20:16:21 GMT -5
Memories. Enough of them. Devil's playthings. Another steals my breath and takes me away. I am a wanderer now. Not with the dark herd yet. Alone. Perfect. Safe. I watch, in spirit form, as I walk aimlessly. Unfocused and unprepared for the impending attack. This is mere minutes before I discover the darks. It is they who attack. Food is scarce this time of year. They know that they cannot risk another herd coming in and stealing what little there is. Believing that I am a herd-dweller the beasts circled around me. Demanding. Questioning. So many question. Who are you? Where are you from? Why are you here? Where is the rest of your herd? Why are others not here with you? Did you run from your herd? What alliance are you? Head spinning, I stared at them. Confused. I answer, "I have no one." It is their turn to be lost. "You are here alone?" With a slight smile, I bowed to the leader and spoke my reply. "Yes. I am craving a herd though."
With that, I was in. The stallions paid little attention to me at first. After all, I became another mouth to feed. The lead had taken a liking to me though. He had no queen. Desired one. Me. He told me many tales of his adventures. Battles. Wins and losses. Unashamed that he is not perfect. Never could be. Not the god his companions made him out to be. It is in me that he entrusted his most valued secrets and thoughts. I am told that he wishes to make me his queen, his only love. Not like the other kings who keep a queen for appearance's sake and take on mistresses. No. His one true love. I felt myself loving him back. It became inevitable. Inescapable. Undeniable. I love it. I love how I cannot refuse his advances. All seemed right. For once. When I see him, my eyes light up, I become alive. Then...the wench. Jealousy. It hit her hard. She couldn't handle how his orbs followed my every move. Hungry. Loving. No cruelty when his gaze falls on my figure. No. My face. He liked me for my persona, not just my appearance. Perfect. Except for one flaw. Easy to sway. Take me away...I am swept back to the present.
A nudge. Against her backside. Puzzled, her orbs flickered slightly then sealed shut once more. Nuzzled now. Her mane. Who? Groggily, orbs open as a voice speaks in her ear. A plea. Calling her out of the darkness. The memories. Gladly the fae rouses herself. Boa raises her delicate crown, seeking out whoever saved her from the past. Terror filled her being. A second time. Sable fought this time. He woke her up. Had the chance to kill her and passed on it. Safe. Grinding that thought into a coarse powder, she managed to speak. A whisper, make of silk. "I'm sorry." Raising herself up onto her slender pistons, she gingerly stepped away from him. Dark red orbs watchful, not trusting. "I'm sorry for intruding on you. I'll leave if you want me to." A sort of sadness could be seen in her eyes if one looked close enough. The thought of being shoved away again hurt. Cut her deep. Lightheaded, she realized that one of her gashes had reopened. Caused by her fall. Sighing, Sable attempted to ignore it. Hoping he would not notice. Knowing better than to draw attention to a weakness.
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