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Post by Darkstar on Oct 29, 2006 16:31:32 GMT -5
Filth carried himself to the water's edge, chilling mist dampening his bay pelt. At last, a place yet to be swamped by mindless morons he mused...this place was still pure, untraveled, unknown...but he was sure others would wind themselves down his trail, managing to find him in this paradise.
He shook himself, liquid crystal flung airbound. It was too cold to be taking a shower at the moment...best wait for the sun to beam it's brightest He wandered to the nearest tree, a river birch, peeling papery bark, allowing a worthy amusement requiring the pulling of the curling pieces. |
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Post by varda» on Oct 31, 2006 18:42:25 GMT -5
[glow=green,2,300]oh the bloody auburn stained mogul did not know, he did not know what was lurking into the yonder of shadows. A threat? Only to those who think it would, take it lightly and over come with the darkness, fear it, and you shall see mercy. The shadows possessed more than what the tree’s hosted to, or the sky that belonged to the creatures of air, nay, a much more deciteful creature settled beneath the shading limbs of the natural skyscrapers. Moonwash’d stained the four pillared creature was, a pelt of gloom, repelling off what was light through the gaps of shelter. Such a way for the creature could lay the petite yet battered physique. Swaying, the limbs danced, creating such a mist did the liquid pools did make, mistifying such vegetation.
Drip, drip, did the uprising puddle within the plantation did gravity’s force pulled. Shimmer here, there, yet no sign of varification did set ‘pon the resting creature, reclining on the underside, sensing the pillars of relief from standings. Not of weakness, nor of restless resting, the only way to recover through the vegetation of no sights to ones that would seek out the roars of the gushing liquid. Swaying of the limbs did once more did bring passageways for light to leak through, spotlighting the physique of moonwash’d. One did could see the visage of the creature, huntress at best, yet aged within the years of trials, only with the lineage of a equine of perhaps five past cycles, or did the eyes trick to let the mind see what it wanted to see. and so it goes, a mirage, thrilling and hopeful to the one who witnessed, dangerous at best to the sight it causes.
restless motions caught 'pon the gaze of the huntress, and so agression did stalk the cooling yet charring void embers. rustling was the only whispers, giving off her ghostly immortality, revealing such appearance, yet persuaded to stand through the darq, revealing what did the gaps of spotlight did show. pistons of the huntress did haul the mass of herself upward, vertically embracing the weight acceptingly again with no falter. stand your ground, keep your feet firm, for he could harm her none, for she was just a venomous huntress, waiting for the right moment to strike, or coil 'til the revealment of her featurettes did show.
OOC: w00t, finally posted for you darkeh ^.^[/glow] |
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Post by Darkstar on Oct 31, 2006 21:47:27 GMT -5
Velvet pelt of cruel creature, so beautiful, in the way of a snake's scales....the underlying danger that rested in pulsing veins, and taut muscles, flexed readily at the movement of lengthy pistons, hauling hate-bred bastard further into the tree-line, breaking into it's core. Bay shade darkened in the tree's shadows, making him almost ebon', a shadow himself, blending with the atmosphere, the scenery. Orbs of copper caught glimpse of movement, more so audits hearing the slight crackling of fallen vegetation, tender steps snapping the delicate skins of the dead leaves, making for a torturous noise, tremendous in his head, echoing in the silence. Dial pivoted to the source, mottled coat seen from a distance. White, reflecting like light off a mirror, if not for that, beast would have remained secret in the underbrush. Nares exhaled dioxide, releasing sound of agitation, more so that his new finding, was now realized. Call of beckoning sounded, parting from ebon' maw.
ooc: ....and you've put me to shame with your postie.... |
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Post by varda» on Nov 1, 2006 17:37:27 GMT -5
[glow=green,2,300] two towers flickered, vertically stretched forth, tuning the lyrics of masculine source, replaying through the cranium of the huntress. a beckon, or did the tunes did just deceive her thoughts in thinking that it was. though she was sought out as a worthless shrew, beckoning was not her deeming acts of respect toward one she knew not. beckoning. that was what slave drivers would use that tune yet harsher tones that dominated the wording. the huntress knew not what appointed this brute to command other souls to come forth, beckoning at their call, such arrogance and too much cran in the clouds thats what. smirk featuettes did dominant the visage of the she-devil, disgust dripped through the voids as if leaking into the shadows harboring such anger and agitation; drip, drip. kissers departed their statue pursed line, snapping as such a defensive creature. and yet she was one, defending her curse, worth, and intentions. lyrics released, a muse of deadly tidings did it bring out through the darkness.
I do not beckon to come to you virile
the echoes did not settle even settle when rustles of curling vegetation on the lithosphere did give the ghostly approaching presence a sign that the four pillared creature was set in motion, a faint edge to the touch, no where near as minutely quiet as she started, but as the virago did send forth her presence, quietness did seemingly surpass the noise of the vegetation, as if elevated to keep such noise low. the path she trod led away, seeming to exit the realm of falling liquid. yet sounds did not matter, nothing did as the approached creature came forth through the frontline of the natural skyscrapers, revealing the moonwash'd reflections that did see through the spotlights of light. kissers still departed with display of crimson-stained ivories, a display that wanted to say more to the virile that was now before her gaze and in back of his. such soundless steps, an angel kiss, or ghostly apparition.
but come at my own accord.
OOC: awww, mesa sorreh, I shall post short anyways. Usually I adjust for others, and usually my opening post is the longest lol. and also I am tired 'n museless today.[/glow] |
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Chloe
Full Member
w00t w00t for nosy reporters!
Posts: 152
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Post by Chloe on Nov 10, 2006 16:54:40 GMT -5
Flicka the blue roan filly watched from a bush as the large stally walking to the water's edge. She feels fear, but she hopes this fearsome horse does not sense her. She is scared and scampers to her tree that she had claimed a night ago. Flicka certainly hopes that the large horse didn't see or hear her...
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