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| Welcome wanderer! You seem to have stumbled across Kormada, a wild horse roleplay approaching its ten year anniversary on the net. We are a very friendly and very active community of players of all ages and experience levels. So take a look around, join us, and experience the chaos of life on a planet cheating death with every day of continued existence. Join Kormada and enter the realm! If you're already a member please log in to your account to access all of our features: |
| -the-house-you-built-; Miss Pomona. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jan 14 2014, 02:13 PM (432 Views) | |
| Rion | Jan 14 2014, 02:13 PM Post #1 |
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Credit'Brick by brick by brick,These walls begin to cave in.'The morning sun crawled back out from the sheet of darkness the moon pulled up with it,projecting the shadows of the objects around the equine to the canvas that her hooves stood upon.The restless night left the mare groggy,a simple explanation explained the one's sleeping schedule. Thirty minutes of dozing off every hour or two kept the mare on her feet for the time being. Her position explained why it had been so,for she didn't feel the grounds she stood on were safe to sleep along. Stallions roaming freely,searching for mares to take back along to the land they called home and Pomona was not to fall victim to one during the night. The rough shake of her head sent the charcoal colored mane down her neck tossing as if in a way to wake herself up. In a way,it did. Shortly after the shake,the extension of the equine's neck resulted in a short yawn as well as a small whinny as if she enjoyed the large stretch. Her standing position resumed,besides the small shift of weight in her hind legs. The gaze of the she sat on her surroundings,not in one place but admiring the silhouette the sun gave them. The very rare,Autumn frost had taken it's place on top of the long grass in her vision,leaving the Dewey look as the rising sun hit it. As the equine came out of her trance she seemed to fall it,her legs began to carry her down the small roll of hill she had spent her night on. The lass's legs eventually carried her down the hill.Her pace was carried as a walk,and her head swung side to side. The lips of the equine reached for the slowly un-frosting,Dewey long grass,snagging the few and letting her teeth munch on them. Moments passed,and the slow act of life began to arise. Other equines began to emerge from where they had slumbered,or from where they had traveled from. Although with the others emerging,the equine kept on her slow pace,snagging at the long grass as she went along. Pomona was a hefty eater,despite her slim appearance. She spent most of her days eating,as if she had a better thing to do being on her own. |
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POMONA MORRIGAN Elpis | |
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| Rival | Jan 14 2014, 04:59 PM Post #2 |
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sweet dreams && flying machines in pieces on the ground.
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S A N C T U M bay warmblood mare, daughter of Friction no alliance, no home, no limitations Though hardly typical of her, especially considering her currently undeclared alliance, the rich bay mare finds herself here in the homeless territory. It is early on this fall morning and her warm breath comes silently as crystalline steam from black nostrils, dark colored eyes scanning the area even before Prime's weak early rays begin to creep atop the trees in the distance. She is silent and still, something she has practiced much of over the past few years, and has found that it works to her advantage much of the time. She is a sight to behold in her age, roughly six years old and still a maiden; no foals have begun to tug and drain away at her bone or muscle structure. Thanks to her parents' Friesian and Cleveland bay lines, she has a naturally thick and full wavy set of tresses and her physique is to be admired. A true warmblood, strapping in her beauty, but it is not something she gives a terrible amount of attention to. She knows she is beautiful. Flaunting it could be dangerous. In the still, off to her right, she hears a somewhat muffled - accidental? - whinny of comfort. Dark eyes flick in that direction, black rimmed ears following suit along with her beautifully arched neck. She watches another mare emerge from her slumber, another warmblood, also bay in coloration, and with a pretty white star on her forehead as well. Sanctum smirks to herself, what are the odds? She, too, has a picture perfect lovely star upon her forehead. It is currently hidden under her wavy forelock which reaches just to the bridge of her nose; she finds it convenient to hide in the darkness. It kept her from giving her position away. Granted she's got a bit of snow white upon her legs as well, but whatever. The other mare makes her way carefully down the hill and, surprisingly, Sanctum finds herself compelled to follow. The mare is pretty and, while a little different in build than herself, at first glance they might be thought sisters. Sanctum's coloration is a bit more of a blood bay with a bit of dappling, not to mention the waves in her locks thanks to her mother, but they are quite similar nonetheless. Why that mattered all of sudden, one couldn't know. She crests the hill, looking down upon the other mare as she eats away at the dew covered greenery, her stature slimmer now that Sanctum is up close. Perhaps she is a Rogue, not unlike herself. Sanctum had been to many continents on this planet and it showed in the streamlined fitness of her body and the sure-footed way she carried herself. Deciding, she drops down the hill, not needing to watch where she places her hooves. The pretty bay approaches the other curiously, surprised to find herself admiring the delicate nature of the other's physique. She stops somewhat close, reaching her noble head down in the other's direction to exchange breaths with her. "Hello." She says simply, feeling a bit odd about randomly approaching a mare in the homeless territory. Perhaps the other mare would feel threatened and chase her off. "Would you… mind a bit of company?" Sanctum asks, surprised to find herself hopeful. Her expression is inquisitive, pretty features alight with interest. She wouldn't introduce herself to the stranger until the stranger approved of her presence; might as well not give a name to an enemy face if it wasn't desired. That is simply how she operates, however; she refuses to put herself below the upper hand at any given time. Not without a bit of reciprocation from the opposite party anyway. Edited by Rival, Jan 14 2014, 05:04 PM.
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the picket fence [i f there is a f u t u r e we want it n o w] // m e r i d i a n // r e u b e n // a s p e c t // ![]() While I am no longer an active member of the community, I adore my characters and peeps nonetheless! | |
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| Rion | Jan 14 2014, 06:33 PM Post #3 |
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Credit'Brick by brick by brick,These walls begin to cave in.'Perhaps it was the wetness of the dew that had been a slick blanket over the grass the equine had been snagging in her walk that woke her up, or it was the rising sun rays that sept into the chocolate eyes of the equine. The rays of sun were slowly lighting the canvas along the lass, appealing to the eye. Few of the autumn bugs sprinkled into the air from the movement of the few others equines, scattering the eye site air with bright yellow features that the sun had reflected off of. The slim, but muscled mare continued with her snagging at the dewed grass with her black lips. Her eyes had returned to the ground, from the once searching look she had upon the canvas. For it was the dangling charcoaled forelock that made the mare, once more seem to aggressively shake her head to get it out of once position it layed in-between her eyes and off to the side. In this motion, the mare had stopped chewing the slippery dew grass; causing them to slide out in-between the black lips. With this happening, the lacking emotion of the equine seemed to appear. Hints of frustration seeped out of the pores in the mare’s face, not only showing her frustration that she lost the few strands of dewed grass, but that she would have to snag more. The hard headed mare lowered her finely shaped head she received from her Dutch warm blood heritage and began snagging at the grass once more. Moments past, as the mare wondered as she would be approached. As it was, she seemed to be having a good enough time snagging at the slowly drying grass. Perhaps she didn't wish for to be approached, in her bitter mood she always seemed to carry but she was, after all in the grounds of the homeless. The fellow mare seemed familiar, as from her side view as the other equine approached the female. It took the few moments of rare silence to allow the mare to learn that it was that she was similar to herself. The same coat, mostly same markings and the similar slim physique. This interested the mare, but kept her maw shut as the other came to a stop. The slow rise of the thick neck the mare wore proudly brought along her head to look to other equine who began to speak. Her words began short, a simple yet normal hello brought the mare to silence of her own as the other continued her words. Beyond her normal nature to stay silent around others she didn't know,her maw opened and her words shortly came out. Her voice was raspy, almost as if she hadn't let her tongue soak in water for days. "Company would be appreciated..I suppose" |
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POMONA MORRIGAN Elpis | |
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| Rival | Jan 14 2014, 07:47 PM Post #4 |
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sweet dreams && flying machines in pieces on the ground.
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S A N C T U M bay warmblood mare, daughter of Friction no alliance, no home, no limitations Though Sanctum knew she ought not be surprised, the awkwardness with which the other bay accepted her company was a little disappointing to the warmblood female. Granted, she could understand that a mare might feel threatened when it came to the homeless. Not just by a stranger, but that her odds might be diminished in the presence of a second mare. But Sanctum wouldn't get in the way of that…. in fact, quite the opposite. She'd likely head off if a stallion approached, or hang back if she happened to make friends. She didn't expect to make friends, but she hoped she could at least enjoy some companionship while she lingered here. "Er, thanks." she says with a sincere smirk of pleasure with the fact that she hadn't been completely run off. The bay warmblood simply watches the other for a few moments, weighing whether or not she should introduce herself. She seldom did so as the occasional stranger would know who she was and change their demeanor altogether. She is one of the last known children of the ever-paranoid and infamous stallion that was her sire, and it seldom worked to her advantage. Mares, though, didn't usually pick up on that like stallions did. "I'm Sanctum." she says in a more friendly tone, determined to push past the awkwardness of her approach. Her head lifts a bit as the other's does so and she looks her nearly mirror image in the eye. "I'm not trying to… you know, take away from your finding a place or whatever." she states candidly, hoping to smooth the air between them before it could grow tense. "I just know it sucks to be somewhere with horses you don't know. Strength in numbers and all that shite." she states more warmly, a clever grin spreading across her face for several moments. She clears her throat, looking around habitually for approaching horses to prepare herself for departure or defense, whichever she decided upon first. Her eyes then trail back to the other bay and she waits for a response, not wanting to be overly talkative and seem like a creeper or anything. As they stand, Prime continues to rise slowly and the shimmer across the ground begins to fade, making it more and more likely for horses to encounter the two of them. Sanctum refrains from taking a few steps back towards the wood, something she would have done reflexively if she weren't staring at the pretty mare before her. The warmth that Prime offers is refreshing, and it only serves to encourage her confidence. She wishes to graze as well, but would prefer they graze together in comfortable silence instead of the awkward kind. They needn't talk, not if the stranger didn't want. Sanctum just wanted a little camaraderie for once. She hadn't experienced it in quite some time. |
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the picket fence [i f there is a f u t u r e we want it n o w] // m e r i d i a n // r e u b e n // a s p e c t // ![]() While I am no longer an active member of the community, I adore my characters and peeps nonetheless! | |
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| `d e p p | Jan 14 2014, 09:24 PM Post #5 |
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I think everybody's nuts.
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![]() T Y R A N T thoroughbred hybrid stallion . argon x noeko . nine years old . black . black eyes . dark . 16.3hh TYRANT'S VOICE (please, you'll want to listen to this first!) The night is still, with hardly a breeze to disturb the haze that has settled over this land, dark and forlorn. Skeletal trees seem to shudder in the eeriness that surrounds them, their tall branches dripping in their boughs of vines and leaves, as if they seek to smother the meek lives that search for solitude in their solemn embrace. Nothing moves, nothing breathes. It is a graveyard, this land, feeding the mirage of luxury that is soon quelled by the desolation of empty promises and lying lips. Only few can emerge unscathed from these terrible borders, stained with such darkness this night. The gloom caresses the monstrous beast in its starry grasp, cruel and cold, tucking him tightly into the shadows where he lurks, silently waiting. The darkness is kind to him, shrouding his lean figure until he becomes one with the black twilight, nothing more than a shadowy disease that infects with every rough breath. The large stallion stands alone, undisturbed as he rots on his throne of decaying bones and death, veiled in the black blood that drips from the trees, their bony trunks intertwining to conceal his lean figure. Little do they know what danger lies in the darkness. He has become not of flesh and bone, but of the greed and cruelty that have come to shape his deathly features, poisoning the warm breath that reaches to curl around his glassy eyes in the cool autumn air. Piercing eyes narrow as the dawn begins to arise, bidding the world to awaken around him in shimmering rays that fall in mottled patterns through the leafy boughs. He does not arouse as they do, as comfortable as he is in the shadows, writhing of darkness and night. Tyrant has not found himself before within this particular land, seeing little point in the effort of wooing the terrible wenches that too often inhabit these borders. It is easy to say that charm and appeal are characteristics that he holds very little of, but the bleak foggy marshes of his homeland have bored him enough to call for extremes. Cold lips slowly twist into a sickening scowl that screams of something ghastly. His attention is hardly kindled by the bay shadows that move on the other side of his roiling prison, his glassy eyes tracing the slender lines as they exchange few words of dull conversation. He watches them for a moment, lurking in the darkness. It is not until he becomes restless that the dark beast descends from his cadaverous throne, stripping himself slowly from the shadows as he emerges into the clearing in which they stand. He moves with serpentine actions, lean muscles rolling over the angular line of his shoulders, every crevice and curve of his lithe body accentuated by the morning dew that dampens his black skin. The proud aristocratic line of his heritage cannot conceal the slippery snake that characterizes his advance, dangerous and unpredictable like a viper ready to strike its victim. Still he slips further into the open, crawling closer to the mares, leaving an array of calamity in his wake that recoils silently back into the dark abyss that pulses around him. His harsh eyes pierce each mare, snarling behind the wily sneer that coils his black lips. He comes to rest in between them, forming a triangle amidst the cool grass and warm rays that hold a stark contrast to the stallion's cold demeanor. “I wonder exactly what strength lies behind pretty pale faces,” he derides them, cold lips curling as his deep raspy voice slides into the autumn air like black smoke, his biting black eyes trailing from the taller mare to the smaller one at his side, his dark form looming over her. His rough voice slips over his tongue softly, entangling with the sneer that hides deadly yellowed teeth, “Enlighten me.” He coos to her like the devil would of sins and death, barbed tongue not sparing despite her pretty face. Tyrant has not been blind to the wrath of mares, but he amuses himself, the tangled locks of his tail coiling around his hocks, waiting for the fun to begin. |
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Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum! #EpicStrut ![]() paper faces on parade; | |
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| Rion | Jan 14 2014, 10:18 PM Post #6 |
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Credit'Brick by brick by brick,These walls begin to cave in.'Though her words sat calmly threw the rasp of her voice, the brim of the odd feeling swept through the air after. The black choppers of the mare began tugging at what was left of the knee high grass at her feet. The gentle breeze of the autumn morning blew by, tangling and tossing the mare’s tail as it went by and causing the reaction to swirl it as the mare did so. The delicious slipper blades of nutrient kept the mare silent, enjoying eating her stomach’s worth. And perhaps another’s. Thoughts scattered, the jelly one would call her brain began to think of the lass that had felt the need to approach. What did this mare want; for sure she didn’t come to just exchange words, or to just be by another. Rogue..? The female thought quietly to herself, ever so lightly eyeing the other in her munching position. The shift of weight in her hind legs seemed to cue the large brush of air that swept its way across the meadows and forested area around the other equine and herself. Her tail tangled along with it, causing another flick of her tail to seem and get it situated. The silence was broken from the same voice that had first spoken to the lass. Her voice made the mare’s ears twist back and forth, as if they were on a swivel. It simply began with chit chat, then with how she seemed to be apologizing for approaching her. Explaining herself, and truthfully the mare hadn’t want to deal with the speaking. After all, she did only say the company was welcome. Not the mouth that came along. A Long, drawn out pause came into effect after the other mare had stopped talking, explaining herself and this made the equine raise her carved head to rise, and glance over to the other. “Silence is a precious thing Sanctum, use it as a gift to your ears..yes?” Her response was said in the same, bitter tone that admitted the previous time. It was almost as if the mare was irritated, her ear’s fell back and her eyes to the Dewey blades of grass underneath them. The silence drew upon them once more, for the time at least. The bay mare began munching on the blades underneath her once more, hoping for it lasted. For the equine’s wishes didn’t happen, the slow but almost swift approach of a beast made the lass rise her head. His pelt seemed to be made out of black velvet, and it was a few sizes too small at the least for it rippled over the muscles that sat at his joints. His black locks of hair seemed to trail behind him as if they were smoke. The equine would be lying if she said he wasn’t eye catching, but his presence seemed to make the bones of the one shiver despite her bitter, and strong outside covering. Her chocolate eyes caught the other mares, almost as if it was a silent question. Had she seen the stallion coming, or was she going to be surprised when he showed? The thin lock of hair the mare carried on her neck shook as the shiver sent down her pelt, it wasn’t notable and the mare hoped to keep it that way. Perhaps it was too late,as the stallion stood making an shape with the two mares. His voice, swell as her words were rasped, deep and quiet frankly interesting to the equine. Her maw layer shut, slightly irritated as another equine had ruined her peace; using the anger to cover her curious sights. Her words responded shortly after his last,for he wished..more of demanded to learn of the mares. “Perhaps you should Apprise of yourself, not fond of a beast with poor approaching skills.” Her words were selected carefully in the short time she responded. Her voice seemed to respond in a snap, a click threw her black lined lips |
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POMONA MORRIGAN Elpis | |
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| Rival | Jan 15 2014, 08:13 AM Post #7 |
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sweet dreams && flying machines in pieces on the ground.
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Sanctum leaves. Trust me, she would have some awesome stuff to say, but I didn't think through the whole out of town thing lol. I'm on my cell to post, won't have access to a computer until late saturday night or sunday at the earliest. I don't want to leave you guys waiting! Sorry for the intrusion RRion, probably should have asked first hhowever, I would definitely consider typing up a whole post for meridian. ;-) haha
Edited by Rival, Jan 15 2014, 08:45 AM.
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the picket fence [i f there is a f u t u r e we want it n o w] // m e r i d i a n // r e u b e n // a s p e c t // ![]() While I am no longer an active member of the community, I adore my characters and peeps nonetheless! | |
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| `d e p p | Jan 15 2014, 12:43 PM Post #8 |
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I think everybody's nuts.
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T Y R A N T Your worst dream, that's my idea. A barbed tongue drips behind the yellowed fangs that sit readily behind the stallion's horrid sneer. His black eyes, soulless stones that are cold and bitter, trail from one mare to the other, waiting eagerly for the game that has begun. The dice have been cast, and now it is only up to their wits to save them from the wrath of this wretched land. The black beast is ready, coiled much like a snake as his lean body is poised, sensing the fear and sweat that might mingle with the cool autumn air. However, his company soon proves dull. The smaller mare departs from them, without so much as a word given or a glance back as her shadow slowly melts into the pale horizon. Tyrant's frigid lips purse as he watches her hasty retreat, mindless and boring, disappointed in the lack of amusement he was sure their company would bring. Nevertheless, the black fiend isn't left completely dissatisfied. The larger bay mare, with a stature much similar to himself, still stands at his shoulder. She bites at the bait that he has laid, her tongue lashing at him like a whip striking quickly through the crisp air, cool and collected. The dark stallion doesn't attempt to contain the sneer that deeps, curling his ghastly features and smoldering the wild black eyes that puncture her behind his long knotted forelock. She gives in so easily to his deride, and he chuckles wickedly to himself, eagerly accepting the game that follows. Because that's all this is, isn't it? A brash game of satire between genders, each casting their chosen words and selected charms into the battlefield. It is fun for Tyrant, using and abusing, bending his own ghastly grace as they intertwine in their banters. The snarled length of his black tail flicks once around the stallion's muscled flanks, his icy gaze even as he penetrates the mare's brown eyes. “Do not attempt to coax a kindly greeting from my lips, pet; you will disappoint yourself,” raspy tones lick the cool morning air with greed, enlightening the dark depths of his eyes that hold no mercy and spare no one. His tongue flicks like a viper, testing her, toying with her. The black beast allows his words to slither over the bay mare, taking a breath as his mind churns with the chaos that writhes inside of him. Most would say he is not desperate for mares, as his home already crawls with the prisoners that he holds now, but he is never wholly satisfied. She has proven a back bone to him, and now it is his turn to evaluate her daring, test her between the lines of stubborn and unruly; the two all too similar but vastly different for the stallion. His fine head tilts just slightly to the side as his lithe body angles a slow step closer to her, like a mad scientist inspecting the next poor victim of his hellish wrath. “Do you have a name, mare? Or shall you be held at the whims of my imagination?” Tyrant's black lips slip into a slow smile, and it is ugly, screaming of something murderous and wicked. Why any creature would be drawn to such raw devilry is a mystery. Perhaps it is the curiosity of the unknown, the desire to know what happens in the shadows of hellfire and brimstone. The black monster is only too willing to show them. |
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Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum! #EpicStrut ![]() paper faces on parade; | |
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| Rion | Jan 15 2014, 01:29 PM Post #9 |
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Credit'Brick by brick by brick,These walls begin to cave in.'The lyrics that expelled from the maw of the mare drew a quaking silence as her glare stuck to the beast that stood alongside of her. Words had clearly expressed she was not in the mood for the childish games he seemed to begin, although the bitter mare never seemed to be in a ‘swell mood other than when her presence was the only around. The light hoof-beats trucking away made the indicators of the female turn, and twist as if they were on a swivel. The site of the beast in front of her made the lass wonder, had his looks, his disgusting words make the other mare run in fear, cower away and leave the equine to the beast herself? She asked herself as if it was a problem she was alone with the savage of an equine in front of her. The expression or gift of being helped by another sickened the mare, causing the expression of disgust to come across her face, allowing the dewed covered lip to curl lightly. The slash her tangled locks made a light whipping noise against the thigh of one. Bowing down, cowering; all forms of weakness that seemed not existence in the air, despite the frustrating scamper off the other mare had done.. The physique of the mare had slowly turned more aggressive then her previous, stance. She had the capability of seeming to blow herself up, as if she was a balloon. Making her normal size, look quiet larger to the un-trained eye. Every balloon eventually pops, and every balloon explodes and it was one thing the mare had nearly done, even for the short words shared with the fellow equine. Her ears seemed to be rolling back and forth on the swivel it had been once placed on, searching the air for the sounds around them. The lyrics of the other equine seemed to be hissed at her ears, slipping into them as if they were poison; yet they had no effect but anger, which very quickly turn into amusement. The quiet, raspy and wicked laughter expressed from her maw, her eye seemed to daringly seep away from his as the chuckling stoped,and formed words as the beast’s tongue seemed to flick at her, gathering up a snort in the equines chest before her lyrics expelled. “I, coaxing you? Who approached the one who was dining, love?” Her words came with a pause, as her eye sight returned to the beasts, digging into what left he had of a soul; if he had anything left. Not shortly after her words, the other equine’s body moved, his step closer to the mare at his side cued the snarling lip of the mare to nag at whatever she could reach with her stained teeth. Her position laid the same, refusing for her hoof’s to move backwards, although the un great-full presence of the beast at her side was not ideal The beast’s word’s expelled from his cage once more; his snake of a tongue forming and reeling his venom after the hoof shuffling experience incased. His imagination, perhaps the mare was correct. This was..all a game. His childish game she seemed to play the victim in. Short and simply, the mare responded with words that were bitter, swell as insulting.“I’m sure nobody would like to be digested in that imagination of yours.” She seemed to sneer lightly, pausing as her eye caught his again. “Pomona,love. If you seem to forget it, I’ll be pleased to in grave it into your empty skull.” |
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POMONA MORRIGAN Elpis | |
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| `d e p p | Jan 15 2014, 02:29 PM Post #10 |
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I think everybody's nuts.
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T Y R A N T Your worst dream, that's my idea. Fluted ears twist to catch the sound of the mare's laughter as it leaks from her blackened lips, his glassy eyes narrowing momentarily before her voice soon follows. He is amused by her reasoning, his wild dark eyes meeting hers with a hell-borne glee that glows with sinful confidence, caught in her bantering that goads him. It is obvious that she is not pleased in the slightest with his advancement in her direction, but she holds her ground, unwilling to submit to his wicked fury. The black stallion is tempted to push her, test her boundaries, circle her and touch her. His dark nostrils curl, sensing the warmth that seethes from her bay flesh, heated with the lust of the season. Despite the typical greed for female flesh that most notorious stallions possess, Tyrant has fathered no children, and has no intentions to in the near future. Still he hungers for the female body, but he is too wise to submit himself to the countless vermin that have now spawned from the bowels of so many stallions; they swarm like a vicious disease. All the same, his body is naturally drawn to hers, his muscles swelling like a poised cobra as yellowed teeth flash behind a malignant sneer. He hovers over the bay mare, the knotted length of his forelock masking the infernal macabre that churns like hellfire in the depths of his cold eyes. She encourages him with her words, coaxing him forward with his biting tongue and harsh eyes, each reaching for their own leverage in this little business that they have found themselves in. As the bay mare comes to a close in her statements, one side of Tyrant's dark brow rises in amusement. She lashes out at him again, though her insults crumble against him like the ocean waves against the cliff side, weak and ineffective. His skin is tough, scarred and impenetrable. Still, she offers him his game so easily, trying to play with him in return. He chuckles darkly to himself at her efforts, entertained with her wily charms and floundering words. “Not a charmer then, are you? We should get along just fine,” the smile that slithers over his frigid lips is barbaric, roughening the words that slide from his mouth until they are cruel and biting, pulling the burning fire from his eyes to smolder the cool air in between them. He shifts his weight slightly, the ugly grin still coiling his dark features as he appraises the bay creature before him. “Let's save the engraving for when we get home, Pomona pet; we'll have plenty of time to abuse each other then,” he jeers openly, his raspy voice ghastly as it slips from his slithering tongue, “I am Tyrant.” The stallion's long black tail wraps around his hocks as his glassy eyes narrow, void of anything but the darkness that has come to consume him, infecting his bones and hardening his stone heart. “Tell me then, what are you fond of?” His grating voice grasps her attention again, “Not the company of others, I presume, judging by your wily charisma,” he derides her more, teasing and laughing, with his black eyes smoldering behind his knotted forelock. |
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Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum! #EpicStrut ![]() paper faces on parade; | |
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| Rion | Jan 15 2014, 03:18 PM Post #11 |
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Credit'Brick by brick by brick,These walls begin to cave in.'The slow, yet bothered exhale of the air that had once swept in threw the nostrils of the female seemed to bounce off the savage who stood, practically over her. Personal space was one thing the mare had been not to kind on sharing in the past, kicking, screaming and biting was a normal reaction to the rude action one had put upon her. Her words were spoken clear and in the same pissy tone to the beast who seemed to find amusement in them. The equine let her cage fill with the surrounding air, which seemed to be just the smell of the brute that stood upon her. The smell of the typical stallion in the season. Disgusting was a word the mare could define it by. Pomona wasn’t on to plan to have the little creatures that formed inside her, even if she had planned to try. The bitter stallion that had her as a young in didn’t spout it for no reason, perhaps it was that she couldn’t conceive or the other many reasons that could. The venom that had once escaped the beast’s mouth did so again, slithering from the cage his teeth made and into the ears of the lass. The expression of chuckling first filled the mare’s ears, making the lip of the mare curl once more of irritation. Had he found her funny? For she was being serious, in the terms of his childish game he put on. His word’s followed his chuckle, providing the assumption that the stallion thought they would get a lot well. The mare agreed on some terms, perhaps if they kept up his game, but not if he continued to breathe down her neck. The tangled flick of locks replicated the sound of a whip against the tender meat of the thigh, for her eyes had nowhere to focus she grew impatient. Why the lass had still stand and speak with this beast? Why was she still here, dealing and playing his games. For only one reason, she enjoyed it. Despite the bitter outer shell she had, the breath of the beast against her pelt and the heat that bounced back and forth between the two. The lechery the mare, just now had realized she had. Perhaps it was natural for the mare to be thinking of this, but it did not please her angered thoughts. His response came quickly, slithering from the mouth of the beast with the words of her engraving plans. His words hinted of a home, as if he thought he had captured the mare and was going to bring her back to the depths of his home. Pomona was one to be stubborn, although not a tease in some terms. The home was offered, to continue the abuse of the game they had been playing and she was not one to take down that offer. The words of the savage continued, grasping her attention as it wondered for her eyes had nowhere to focus. His name was spoken, and it was interesting. Odd, to the point where it fit the savage, almost seeming to nice. Her words were spoken back after his had stopped, the same bitter tongue spoke. “It seems I’m fond of your childish game Tyrant.” The large, over needed shake of her head sent her mane tossing down her back and her already largely smelling desire into the air. “Or perhaps ones who can interest me, which is what you are failing to do as of now.” Her words lied, she was interested and that was clear by how she was talking. If she found no need to talk to another, her maw would stay shut and her voice would stay off. |
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POMONA MORRIGAN Elpis | |
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| `d e p p | Jan 17 2014, 10:33 AM Post #12 |
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I think everybody's nuts.
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T Y R A N T Your worst dream, that's my idea. The large bay mare hardly misses a beat in her response, her words giving into him just a little bit for the first time. A wicked sneer coils the black stallion's features, ugly and dark, pulling the hell from his savage eyes to seethe behind his yellowed teeth. However, Pomona quickly batters at him again, though he can tell that her spite is soon waning. Her tongue does not crack through the crisp morning air as it did only moments before, instead falling short as the barbed tip grazes harmlessly against the monstrous beast. She is a daring one, he will give her that, but she has already given to him leverage that he seizes with greedy claws, only too anxious to twist and use her. Tyrant knows now that the pretty bay maiden will be his, whether she gives her consent or not. He already owns her. His dark lean body coils, pulsing with the darkness that twists in shadowy tendrils around them, resistant to the strength of Prime's rising light. He tilts his head to the side, the gesture as threatening as it is frightening, with his soulless eyes wild and chaotic as they smolder with his black heart. He punctures Pomona with his eyes, holding her where she stands, pinning her body beneath his wicked stare. “Is that so?” His deep voice is slow, his sharp tongue caressing every word with poison as it drips from his cold lips. He eyes her intensely, stripping away the flesh from her bones to reveal the soul that lies beneath, bare and exposed to his devilish scowl. The black stallion's warm breath twines in a smokey haze that frames his deathly features, highlighting the fire and brimstone of hell that is the dark beast. “You're not a very good liar, Pomona,” his raspy voice takes on the tone of a parent scolding a child who has disappointed them, holding a hot tension in the air, the terrible suspense of a punishment they both know is about to come. Tyrant's callous lips twist gradually into a ghastly sneer that screams of danger and darkness, frightening as the yellow of his cutting teeth are exposed in a feral visage of the grim reaper ascending from his fiery throne of the dead, hissing and poised to strike. “Why don't we take this back to my own abode, shall we? We can continue our little infantile game there.” He mocks her gently, intertwining with the throaty voice that slithers through venom to wrap around her, whispering dark secrets (meant to be left unknown) into her ears, leaving no room for escape. The fiendish monster waits for a moment, allowing his words to settle before he moves. His lean body snakes slowly backward, angling in the proper direction for Hope's Marsh. Wild black eyes never leave the bay mare, refusing to let her escape. Tyrants waits passively (impatiently) now for her to follow him, but his lithe muscles are taught beneath his inky hide, ready to use force if need be. A withering leer lingers on his lips, taunting. |
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Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum! #EpicStrut ![]() paper faces on parade; | |
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9:16 AM Jul 11
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hhowever, I would definitely consider typing up a whole post for meridian. ;-) haha
9:16 AM Jul 11