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Post by butterfilly on Dec 9, 2007 13:05:21 GMT -5
The Stallion limped into the light terra, his swollen hind leg dragging upon the ground.
Lifting his crown, he gave a sharp neigh, and weakly called.
Folklore's Fortune claims his Land for him and his future loved ones.
His dome fell back faintly on to his chest, and his sides heaved, as he breathed long shallow breaths. |
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Post by |.(h.orsediv.a|.) on Dec 9, 2007 13:28:04 GMT -5
She looked down on the handsome stag, mad at herself for dying. She longed to be down there with him, to ask his name, to be there... alive. She sighed, her voice heard in the gentle breeze, hoping.
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Post by butterfilly on Dec 11, 2007 13:16:28 GMT -5
His audites pricked, at a slight noise from the air.
Who be there? Reveal yourself now.
He peered around, knowing full well that he wouldn't be able to defend this land from another stallion. |
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Post by |.(h.orsediv.a|.) on Dec 11, 2007 13:34:43 GMT -5
She whispered to him through the wind once more. she knew it was eerie, but it was the only way. I am Dark Moon, do not be afraid. She trotted through the gates, for the Gaurdians were not watching. she came down, appearing in the forest. I am Dark moon. she said once again.
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Post by butterfilly on Dec 11, 2007 13:43:23 GMT -5
Folklore stumbled away from he forest.
What is it you want? How did you appear like that?
His audites were pinned, and banner lashing. |
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Post by |.(h.orsediv.a|.) on Dec 11, 2007 13:48:11 GMT -5
She lowered her head. I am sorry. She said in shame. I... had been walking. And I... guess you only saw me now. She lied. But I am Dark Moon, and no threat to you. Oh, how she wished she had been a light and gone to heaven! When this stag died... that;s where he would go. She would never see him again.
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Post by butterfilly on Dec 11, 2007 13:54:24 GMT -5
Oh, Uh... GoodDay Dark Moon. My title is Folklore's Fortune, or Folklore to friends.
He nooded his head in greeting, as much as it pained him to do so.
And, may I ask your alliance? |
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Post by |.(h.orsediv.a|.) on Dec 11, 2007 13:57:00 GMT -5
She swallowed. I... um... was a Dark. She said regrettfully. But now i'm a light. She said, not knowing how he would react. Or... trying my best to be. I don't like the Dark life, I was raised as one, though. She winced, thinking of her horrid past.
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Post by butterfilly on Dec 11, 2007 14:00:09 GMT -5
The Stallion narrowed his orbs, as she mentioned her dark inheritance.
I see.
He moved away from her slightly.
What is your purpose in this terra, Dark Moon?
He had become more wary now, and the meeting felt tense. |
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Post by |.(h.orsediv.a|.) on Dec 11, 2007 14:03:47 GMT -5
She stepped back. I... um... I don't know. She dropped her head. I... I'm sorry for intruding... If i'm a problem. She stepped out of the forest, her young and scarred body showing what her father and mother had done to her in her past... what had killed her. I... guess i just wanted a home. She said finally. She then realized hi hind leg with a gasp. Are you alright?! She exclaimed.
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Post by butterfilly on Dec 11, 2007 14:21:00 GMT -5
Folklore's orbs widened as he saw the fae's torso.
As she gasped, he jumped, and pulled his hindleg behind his bulk, out of sight.
The stally's face was flushed.
It's nothing. It's fine.
He half turned, so no part of his leg could be seen.
Folklore trembled with shame. |
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Post by |.(h.orsediv.a|.) on Dec 11, 2007 14:24:24 GMT -5
She saw that he wanted it to be left alone, so she did. Her scars burned in the sun, but seeing his leg made it numb. She stand there, not knowing what to do.
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Post by butterfilly on Dec 12, 2007 9:15:25 GMT -5
Folklore watched the mare retreat, hanging his head.
This would have been a chance for him to start a herd, but he had ruined it.
I don't want a horse like that to be in my herd, she is too inquisitive.
But the stallion's heart told the real story. |
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Post by |.(h.orsediv.a|.) on Dec 15, 2007 13:10:36 GMT -5
She step back into the forest, the shade hiding her ugly scars. I... I'm sorry for intruding onto your territory. She said, head hanging low. It's none of my business to be here. She step farther back, so she was barley visible, bot wanting the handsome stag to have to see any of her ugly scars. A tear slips down her cheek, as she turns to go.
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Post by butterfilly on Dec 16, 2007 16:11:40 GMT -5
The Stallion turned his back on the retreating mare, sensing her unhappiness.
He limped away from her, wanting to put as much distance between them as possible.
If only my leg wasn't damaged, I would be free to do as I pleased, and that Mare would have probably joined my herd. |
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