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| and spit your pity in my soul;; Opium // Dark | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 10 2013, 01:19 AM (187 Views) | |
| madie | Jul 10 2013, 01:19 AM Post #1 |
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The Homeless is still, silenced by bitter hoarfrost and looming shadows. Prime has not yet crested the horizon, the shades of the night not yet chased off. The waking rays color the far sky shades of orange and pink. The new grasses glimmer in a sea of morning frost, yearning for what little warmth the day would bring. Winter still bites behind the Spring morning, freezing the little dew drops that have gathered upon her slender legs. She is as still as the morning, with eyes that search like Prime’s morning rays to alight the shadows of the lingering night. She blends with the towering trees, newly awakened from their winter slumber. Her body is as long and lean as their silvery barked trunks. She is a mere sapling, a new three year old, but she has been alone for quite some time. Perhaps, instinct has lulled her here, tempting her with the scents of spring. She toys with the foreign tastes that wet her pink tongue. The uncertainty of all of this intrigues her, stealing her deeper into the veins of the Homeless. The overo mare, painted so similarly to her sire, Viral, waits like a bird on a wire. Morning drizzles slowly into the fading shadows. This is when all the little things stretched off the night and ventured into the safety of daylight. Opium smiles. Creatures can be so naive. |
![]() antimony . balor . chaul . desdemona . eidothea . malady . opium . rowtag . ryse . scorn . sköll | |
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| Magnanimous | Jul 10 2013, 06:37 PM Post #2 |
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It's cold, here. Hope's Marsh is never so chilled, even in the depths of winter the marshy land stays almost warm. But here, with a frozen layer of dew across everything in sight and Prime's rays fighting to beat away the night, each puff of air freezes as it leaves Rafe. He supposes he should be content with what he has, lest he tempt fates. But it doesn't seem to be enough that Cait wandered in, that Madrid and Cheyanne stayed around. Three is too few for the greedy zebroid, and so he is trolling the homeless grounds. It is nearly empty of other equines, caught on the perfect cusp between dawn and the fading night when all others are asleep. Then he sees her, pretty and all alone, standing at attention, as if waiting. She's a pretty thing, bay and splashed with white in patterns loud enough to rival his own. He approaches, and is tempted to push into her personal space, drag his muzzle along her neck, something, anything to see what type of mare she is. He doesn't but he does stop a few feet too close to be polite, and when he speaks, Rafe makes sure to flick his gaze admiringly over the mare. "Hello." Is all he offers, not particularly keen on giving some formal introduction with his name and home and life history, as he has seen done before. It's better for some mystery to remain. |
![]() we are not things; those were her words! salome | ishtar | piper| riesling | rani | anael | iscaie | silas | faolan | sven | nyss| | |
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9:16 AM Jul 11
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9:16 AM Jul 11