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Post by cowgirl4lyfe on Jan 8, 2011 13:31:58 GMT -6
Nightingale Ashen rings formed around her teacup sized hooves as she placed them like glass on the burnt ground. She dropped her golden boa low, trying to escape the smoke that still cloaked the air like a thin sheet of plastic, so close to being torn but so hard to breath in. Twisted locks fell over her right temple. Aquatic tinted orb washed the land carefully. Velvet kissers opened, releasing a chest full of air. "Where am I?" the words like poison on her tongue, stating them in a hushed whisper to herself. A pause in her gait. Crows nesting in a naked pine with bark blacker than tar squawked a warning to her, the melody a sign of danger that had already come and past in this godforsaken world. Auds rotated to a peculiar sound that gentle vibrated her drum. She stood erect as a shadow etched on the barren, brick colored hill top crept toward.______________ Words: 156
Muse: Fine.
Notes: Hi, yeah, I'm new - thanks Racechick! haha |
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Post by racechick on Jan 9, 2011 10:36:06 GMT -6
OOC- Welcome.!!! Sigaf Masculine stag entered the arid terra, the rank scent of blood masked by a thick layer of smoke, the brute arching his boa to protect his nares from insufflating the fumes. Uniform limbs conveyed the stag at a cadent canter, charcoal globes sweeping the land, there was an odd scent here; the scent of a mare. A smirk pulled at the sides of his ink dipped kissers, harks erect and pools still searching, columns unchangingly advancing him. Nostrils flared, the intoxicating aroma that lingered in the air somewhat stronger, orbs catching a glisten of golden through the clouds of soot that engulfed them.
A snort erupted from his chest, ringing through his ebony muzzle, before slowing to a brisk and frisky trot. Pillars flicked out, as if he were some show pony, his crown tucked inward to his chest; obsidian optics locked on the aureate mare. He approached the vixen, looking over her build. She wasn't of the breeds that usually roamed these lands, she was better build, well muscled, and bigger boned. The blood of quarter horses she would bleed, a cunning grin curling on his velveteens at the thought.
"Well hello dear." He greeted her, letting his eyes study her mass at every angle as he circled her. "My name is Sigaf, king of Crown Victorian. May I know the name of such a. . . Magnificent fae?" He stopped near her crania, extending his boa to bump muzzles with the honey colored mare. OOC- Words: Like 260 or sumthing Muse: Bad, but I'm sure it will get better... Other:.... |
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Post by cowgirl4lyfe on Jan 9, 2011 15:56:05 GMT -6
Nightingale His vocals were deep. In her mind's eye, she could see his thick cords vibrating in his fleshy throat. Did a tiny wince leap through her body just now? She shook out her glossy coat and sent away the layer of ash that settled in the crease of her spine and slits on her body where muscle was so tight that ribs protruded. The dust lofted into the air, sparkling in a way that made you forget how much destruction its flames caused.
"Crown Victorian? I know not the place you speak of, stranger." she remarked with hooves firm in place. Sigaf. King, Sigaf. Dare she say his name, give him more credit than he deserved upon their very first meeting. "I am Nightingale." she hesitated before reaching out to breath-test his whiskery maw with her slick one. Catching his burly scent, like the odor gave off by a tree's trunk when first hacked into with a blade, the fae let out a feeble squeal and raked empty space with her frontal limb. He had called her majestic, yet no heat rose in her cheeks. Such flattering must have come often to her, before the accident, because she seemed immune to his charm. "Do you, uh, know where I am?" despite her confusion maintained neat posture and confidence portrayed by square shoulders as she scanned the land, optics squinting. What kingdom did she happen to walk right into, and what part of that kingdom was this? Definitely not the usual social site with the smoke and smell of blood lingering on the ground. Must be an old war site. Back when the world first started to fall apart. Nightingale bit her lower lip, waiting for an answer from the showy white stag.
______________ Words: 291
Muse: Better.
Notes: Thanks (: |
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Post by racechick on Jan 9, 2011 22:15:23 GMT -6
Sigaf Frosted stallion's soldiers flickered to the soft yet bold voice of the vixen, she knew nothing of his eminence around Superior Falls; definitely a new comer. "Well dear, you see, you're in the battle grounds; but how would you like to stay a glorious meadow, where the grass grows plentifully, and there is only but a small herd. ?" He painted, a quaint picture, if he'd say so himself; persuasion emanating through his vocal noise. He would have normally forced this fine mass of horse flesh to his 'humble' abode, but it was time for him to take it slow; really draw them in then attack.
Sigaf smiled faintly, locking gazes with the fae, her turquoise blue orbs rich and enticing. Sigaf stepped forward, letting his muzzle skim up her crest, before coming to rest by her expertly sculpted hark. "So what do you say?" Seduction illuminated his words as they past through his kissers. The cow smirked, turning away from Nightingale, and taking a few strides toward his land before halting. He twisted his head around to stare at her, "This is a dangerous place for a mare, as pretty as yourself, to be alone." He stated, shaking his cranial cavity; tassels cascading over his left optic.
Sigaf turned his crown, orbs locked in the direction of his land. Muscles twitched, the stag edger to get back to his herd. His encounter with Crash hadn't been a pleasant one, for her anyway, and he knew that she would be planning to leave; sooner or later. Sigaf bobbed his dome, a snort rippling through his chest, and his front hooves left the ground a few inches. He couldn't leave yet, he needed this mare to join him, whether she wanted to or not. Words- Around 300 Muse- Blah... Notes- Nothing rlly.... |
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Post by cowgirl4lyfe on Jan 12, 2011 13:15:04 GMT -6
Nightingale How did he know just what to say? Her mind tugged in the direction Sigaf was set on traveling, no doubt with her by his side. The Battle Grounds. Not the place she wanted to be when hunger and thirst set in...not to mention night. The sun already teetered on the edge of the horizon. A meadow sounded nice, just for a day or two, so she followed stiffly behind him. She had nothing waiting for her here. "I suppose you are right, stallion." she replied and though it was tempting to stroke his flank graciously when she passed by him, Nightingale refused. Something felt not right, but it must be the air, chemicals in the sky messing with her cranium. A plentiful meadow with but a small herd... She repeatedly ran over the idea with a pencil in her mind. Each time, drawing it more and more glorious than she knew it was.______________ Words: 154, two off from my first post, geez I'm consistent ha.
Muse: Ehhh.
Notes: Hehe ohhh kaay I already know where to post  |
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Post by racechick on Jan 12, 2011 14:11:30 GMT -6
Since u've already posted in his land...
---CLOSED---
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