Post by Ebra on Mar 8, 2006 21:23:52 GMT -4
The belle of stunning flame hues had been meandering within the muddle of old foliage and thick trunks for quite some time, her mind burried within the wood as well, though one thought standing still within the rocking wind of the other's which races around steadily in her mind. Classic Touch. Of course she had resided here. She had for quite some time out of her life, no? As well as Moyen. Though Moyen had been here all of her life. Much like Fajera. Though she was fully implanted into the land of the Cursed Royals. Created and birthed upon the sacred lands she way; A true princess in herself. And Ebra was so proud. So proud until she had fetched the word of the lands. Fajera was due, just as Ebra was. Both equine to brew their own creation, and both by another stallion. Just the thought seemed to make the aging queen of russet sigh loudly. She was mothering, yes, and this sort of act just made her sick... Sick for better days, and sick for the past; when Fajera was weak and innocent.
- - -
A soft sigh slowly fled from the belle with her travels to cease for the moment, crown to rise with the bluster riding upon her own spine, the plumage to twist and toss softly. "They're both here..." Was the soft murmer to exit the femme, making sure none other could pick up the vocalization, no matter the distance. The winds brought scents of a pair of eques residing within the Blessed One's Throne. Ebra was a keen sort of equine, thus knowing instantly whom the aroma's had belonged to. Moyen and Classic. A low snicker shifting from the ongoing chords which were plucking, the vixen to slowly lurched forth and continue with her way, just thinking... Trying to put together some sort of plot for when she had met the pair, and was forced into speaking as well. She had to keep in mind many factors. She wouldn't grow too physical with the opposing ones, as she was in foal for a second time, though there would be harsh words to leave stains upon their minds, and possibly some agressive touch. Though what was she really here for?! Deux, of course. Deux, and the toture of the opposites.
- - -
Where heaven and hell meets
Where wings are burned and scarred
Where day becomes night
And where wounds are healed
This is no magic, my friend
This is all so real...
- - -
The cord slowly lapped against the flanks of she, the flints silently sweeping over the layers of fresh foliage beneath with her pace. She was wise enough to remain hidden within the wood, though eventually she would need to expose herself into the open fields of the Blessed, and speak her causes. There would be no form of formality, though. No honor or respect. This was dirty play, and she would refuse to go home with just one spot of rouge. The thorns of russet slowly cupped forth with the meandering beats of another equine, the femme doing the opposite of what was natural to any of her kind. Quickly had she pushed onwards, apex wildly thrown ahead of her step as she grew bouncey and nearly eager to collide with a sister. One hated, and trodden little sister. This would all be childs-play. Would it not be?
- - -
The seconds of this pacing had brought a small chestnut and deeper mahogany frame into vision, the belle of fire tongues to smirk slyly with her approach. The pistons were stretching to a mad length, the bodice swinging softly as she had already begun to show signs of holding a new life within. The sound of her step was slowly beginning to grow more apparent, though there was no reason to hide at the moment she had approached the pair of equine, now was there? The strictly sculpted dome was held to a high perch, boa forming into a elegant arch as she had shown no flaws with her stature. The plumage swung from side to side in an idle manner before sticking upright into a regal flagging position, the muscles rippling attractively beneath the velvet-like pelt. "Classic... Moyen..." The tone was a mere sneer as she had stepped up to the huddled pair, keeping her high figure as she looked down upon two pieces of filth; both equal in their ways. "Now, now. Don't flinch. Don't scare yourselves into shock, please. It seems as though your dear Kye has grown distracted, no?" The smirk grew to a wild length as Classic was suddenly rounded, the belle to chop the pair in half, and herd off Moyen a foot or two. It would be easier to have a short chat with her young mother first, no? Naturally, Ebra had already gained rank. Being most likely nearly twice the age of Classic herself, there was more knowledge and years of muscle to back her up. How would the pathetic thing reply, though? Hollar for her mate whom wasn't much stronger, most likely...
OOC: Wow. Crap, but there you go. ^^