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Post by Santiago on Jun 15, 2007 16:11:00 GMT -5
. S O N O R A |:.
Wounded, blood-stained bodic appeared out of nowhere. Darkness hung around her like a swarm of bees on the chase. She liked it like that. The surrounding area was cold and musty, just the way she like it. Dark crimson pelt was almost invisible in the light-forbidden waste-land. Only a true dark would notice her hidden in the shadows. But was there ever such a steed as the one she dreamed of? Darkest, toughest steed in the areas. Of course not. Most of the time, 'quines had to lower their expectations of things and get into the reality of it all. Such a 'quine was this one. She wasn't the darkest wench in the parts, but she truly was a dark, Not one of those fake wanna-be's.
Sneaking through the mist she noticed a rat scurrying beneath her striped hooves. A quick swish of the tail and the rat would die. Left to rot or fertilize the ground a bit more. That's what it was good for. Nothing else. Kind of like most other 'quines, especially the pathetic mule lights and the neutral wanna-bes. They didn't deserve a place on this earth, and she'd make sure of that. |
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Post by ..:s e r e n d i p i t y:.. on Jun 16, 2007 15:06:11 GMT -5
He moved like a breath of wind - almost silent, yet leaving behind the feeling of a missing presence. He preferred to be unobtrusive and observant - the enemy can only be defeated if its weaknesses are known.
This femme was certainly no enemy, but since he counted no horse as friend, he thought it best not to leave anything to chance. An introvert, Tenor appeared like a deep stream - still on the surface, but a raging current beneath. His mind moved like lightning, and his dark, impassive eyes betrayed nothing.
For Tenor, everything was a battle. Every action stemmed from hate or fear, and so each could be treated with the same equation applied to each. This was a decision that derived from hate - hate of the cushioning silence and reverberating echoes of his empty homeland.
Finally he allowed a noise to sound, warning the vix of his presence. A twig snapped. His face loomed in the shadows.
He inclined his head politely to the maiden, but there was a flame in his eye that betrayed the hypocrisy of this action. Tenor cared nothing.
"My lady,"
He said in a flat, emotionless tone that implied he merely said "lady", and thought "wench",
"I am Tenor of the Cavern of Echoes. Might I have the dubious pleasure of your name?"
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Post by Santiago on Jun 16, 2007 17:18:06 GMT -5
. S O N O R A |:. She could feel the presence of another darkened 'quine before he even gave her the warning. She wasn't stupid, and if this brute thought so than so be it. He'd get a warning he'd never forget. Banner swished harshly at the pests for it was fly season. An excuse. Harks were perched sterdily atop her dial as she noticed the mighty, dark face in the shadows. She sensed his hatred in life, and immediately she knew he was of her alliance. 'Lady'? Haa... You wish she thought to herself. Of course, why judge a horse before even speaking? There was no point to that was there? Bodic rotated around, facing the stranger with an evil glare gazing around. She gave a snort, not really in the mood or this 'claiming' game. A stupid, pathetic light game. So she'd get this guy over with quickly. Sonora.She said wickedly. Her tone was nothing you'd expect from just looking at her. It was harsh and rough. A deep tone instead of the squeaky mare voice. She showed no respect to him. He may be a king, but that gives no excuse to go bowing and what-not. Who knows, she could even be a higher rank one day.
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Post by ..:s e r e n d i p i t y:.. on Jun 18, 2007 11:15:59 GMT -5
He gave a slow, sly smile. This would be interesting - a femme with a bit of fight in her. Fair enough - he didn't care what her feelings, her emotions were. He only craved another soul - tortured or not - within the endless echoes of his domain.
She did, he noticed disappointedly, seem almost the traditional idea of a dark mare. Impatient, disrespectful, rash and full of false courage. It was quite amusing - he thought her type had died out, leaving behind the sharper, more ambitious sect. Those of the religion of showiness and hate-all attitude were almost faded from the world. Most femmes he knew took the spiteful, power-hungry, band-together-to-destroy-the-many approach. This, though quaint, was a breath of fresh air.
Perhaps she would appreciate his own easily assumed attitude.
"Can't say it suits you."
He said in a long drawl, his eyes bright.
"Maybe it's your impatience. "Sonora" is rather more genteel than you appear to be."
His eyes added a postscript - and don't forget it. Tenor had a taste for the genteel above all else - he loved the impression of perfection tainted and corrupted from within. That was his fetish.
"But perhaps we can hope for some sense of wit or other distinguishing quality, can we, lady?"
He said, stressing the last word. Boy, this was fun. He never usually got away with this disrespect. But then, she could hardly call him on it - unless hypocrisy was another of her redeeming qualities.
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Post by Santiago on Jun 18, 2007 19:35:45 GMT -5
. S O N O R A |:. Did he think he was offending her? She wasn't the picky type. She didn't fight someone if they had an opinion of their own, even if it had to do with her. She didn't care, and he should've known that already but was too stubborn and hard-headed to realize it. If he was looking for a fight, he was dealing with the wrong wench. Perhaps we can. You have without prejudice, judging a 'quine before getting to know them.
[/i] She wasn't as quick to judge. She'd rather sit back and watch the fun and reaction of the strangers. Weight shifted to one side as there seemed to be a long silence. She didn't have time for a relationship, and was just out to look for an evil-enough place to stay. This Tenor seemed to be keeping a secret from her. Perhaps a land of such wickedness that it was too much for him. Was he out for a herd of slaves, or a wicked right-hand queen? Whatever it was, she had nothing to offer to him, and it felt good.[/blockquote][/size][/center] |
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Post by ..:s e r e n d i p i t y:.. on Jun 23, 2007 5:28:45 GMT -5
[sorry I haven't replied in a few days... i've been overloaded with work and coursework... thank god the holidays are almost upon us]
Tenor gave a drawn out, mock sigh. This really was frustrating. She ouldn't even engage in some casual taunting. But then again, those of her religion did usually have swelled heads. Hell, he didn't mind, it just made her so much less interesting to him. But Tenor's sharp mind could be most butterfly-like, and it took a lot to hold his attention.
And naturally, it was important to make a judgement before getting to know someone. The first fifteen seconds of meeting would make te initial impression, and though this could be altered, it was the basis of any relationship. She was obviously naiive if she didn't understand this.
"Prejudiced indeed, sweet Sonora. For how else can one get to know a horse in the duration of a conversation in the claiming meadow? Rash judgements are all part of the lifestyle."
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Post by wowposter on Oct 30, 2008 5:17:13 GMT -5
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S O N O R A |:.
