Welcome Guest [Log In] [Register]
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:

Username:   Password:
a breath of spring; closed ;; adonis
Topic Started: Jul 1 2014, 10:23 AM (228 Views)
devotchka
Member Avatar
WELL SWEET MOTHER TERESA ON THE HOOD OF A MERCEDES BENZ
TARYN
' your voice is soft like summer rain, and i cannot compete with you '
________________________________________________________________________


FINALLY she can stop running.

SHE knows she appears run down. Much like worms, the dead child inside of her had sucked out all the nutrients. Taryn eats enough to keep herself going and that is all. The bright chestnut coat is dull and staring, not helped by her winter coat thickening and working it’s way in. She is lean and lanky and not in a good way, but if she cared about her appearance, she would have waited before putting herself out on display. However she knows that survival is best in a group, and the grass in the common grounds is not sufficient for an equine for very long. Besides, stallions fall over themselves to find mares. For someone who lives in her head most of the time, the few facts Taryn does know about the outside world are surprisingly accurate.

THE young mare walks through the homeless, her eyes listless. She moves downwind from a figure and for a moment, she thinks she smells something familiar. Someone from a long time ago, or what felt like it. She shakes her head, chuckling to herself. It is not Vaus. If he came near her again, this time she would kill him.

THE chestnut watches someone in the distance cross over her path before walking on again. She has a spot by the shoreline where a tree fell a few nights ago where she can position herself like a messenger from Kestrel himself and stallions can flock to her. She was always told she was beautiful, and even now in her sorry state, in her mind Taryn believes that is the truth. We should look at what is on the inside, is her innocent belief when it comes to aesthetics, although whether this is true of all equines is doubtable. Unfortunately if this was the case then what is on the inside of Taryn is just as unpleasant as her exterior in it’s current condition.

LEADING with her unsocked hoof she steps onto the sand, the wet grit cold against her soles as she traipses down towards her chosen destination. The tree has already taken a beating against the weather and the entrails are starting to be picked apart by various creatures and the elements. Using the vast trunk as a sort of shield against the wind Taryn turns to face her invisible audience, shutting her eyes as the breeze whips her mane round her neck and face. The world is a prettier place when her eyes are closed.


theme xx image


Posted Image




____________________________________________
in these cages we call walls ~
[ OFFLINE ] [ PROFILE ] [ QUOTE POST ] [ GO TO TOP ]
 
Bibliobibuli
Member Avatar

It was the season of promises. New foliage, lush green to devour, new life being born in every bloody blink the buckskin made. Everything appeared so perfect it made the dark stallion sick, in retrospect. In his lifetime Adonis had built up so much anger and repentance to the beautiful picture that was painted time and time again by the herds of Kormada. Life was not meant to be perfect, life was full of troubles and hard times. A useless slab of land and trophy mares were all stallions wanted nowadays. It should be as obvious as the scars the stallion bears that he had a rough personality. The land he chose to reside in was as disfigured as he was. Though intact and decently deceptive, hardened over with scar tissue, with an actively perilous core, Adonis was much like his home The Vaporous Eye. He hadn’t had any visitors there, which was how he liked it.

In a rare occasion Adonis left his home, deciding to come to ‘the promise lands’. He was a shepherd with no sheep, a king with no pawns, and perhaps saddest any in the stallions mind, a contender with no opponent. The scars might be jarring, and the most noticeable of features among the dark pointed buckskin, but they didn’t hinder his development. At six years old he long since left his naive looks behind. He was a mature, masculine figure. Thanking his friesian and lipizzaner bloodlines for an athletic and stealth like movement, and his quarter horse genes for the additional layer of muscle along his hind quarters and chest, he was a force to be reckoned with.

As his way was made deeper into the homeless grounds, eyes rolling at the sight of one hopeless romantic to the next, Adonis was on the scope for a less picture perfect scene. Life was imperfect, he wouldn’t try to cloak this by collecting only the most picture perfect mares. No, those broads were most often the most cumbersome, with their high maintenance demands for love, attention, children. Noooo, the buckskin shook his thick neck at the thought. He would be sure not to bark up that tree.

Speaking of tree, an interesting scene developed in front of a recently fallen tree.He looked on curiously. He watched silently as the spindly chestnut mare made her raucous way to the trunk of the tree. He kept watching as the breeze picked up her warm hued mane and whipped it about her neck. Perhaps his favorite part was watching her close her eyes. He grinned, putting his lengthy yet stealthy legs in motion. She was imperfect, her rough exterior house a story he could tell. This interested him more than any flashy coat a mare might adorn.

He made no attempt at alerting the mare of his approach, if he startled her it would be what was coming to her for shutting her eyes off to the world. The steady roar from the ocean surely over shouted his muffled steps as he walked through the sand in the mares direction. Russet eyes studied her angular and firey body. She had good bones, which should couldn’t hide if she tried at this point. Though perhaps not in her glory days, she appeared to be a survivor, which is all anyone could ask for nowadays, the ability to survive. ”Aren’t you cinematic.” Black tipped maw pulled back to reveal a crooked grin. ”Poised up and pretty like some lady of the sea.” Tilting his head to the side, he whispered just above the shouts from the ocean. ”But don’t I know better. You aren’t a lady, now are you? You’re just another imperfect mold put on this earth to tell yourself you deserve better.” His speech stopped and was carried off with the wind, ears hovered hungrily forward to catch her response.
Edited by Bibliobibuli, Jul 2 2014, 01:15 AM.


Posted Image

Hiatus from Kormada! Message me to find where I play now :)


[ OFFLINE ] [ PROFILE ] [ QUOTE POST ] [ GO TO TOP ]
 
devotchka
Member Avatar
WELL SWEET MOTHER TERESA ON THE HOOD OF A MERCEDES BENZ
TARYN
' your voice is soft like summer rain, and i cannot compete with you '
________________________________________________________________________


TARYN'S perfect moment, if there is such a thing, is ruined by the lowly growl of her stomach. The sensible thing would be to find food, after all, she is skin and bone as it is, but it has been a very long time since the chestnut has done something good for herself. She is the kind of personality that strays from the right into the wrong, because the wrong feels so good. Besides, there is no fun being pure all the time, where is the sense of adventure, the fun? She will take the path of righteousness when it suits her, not the other way round. So far as surviving goes, she has come this far has she not? It would be fair to say that the little mare has undergone more in her short life than equines thrice her age, though most of the time she has been to blame, she believes there was always a good reason for it. After all, if she is chosen, then surely nothing could ever be blamed on her, using the logic her native herd uses. At times Taryn feels sceptical of this, but if things go in her favour then a little apprehension can be brushed aside.

THE deep voice of a stranger pulls the red mare out of her subconscious and her entire frame jolts as she is startled. Taryn’s nostrils stretch wide as she blows out the air in her lungs on impulse, and when she recovers herself her eyes focus on the equine standing in front of her. He’s tall, and handsome, as are all the stallions nowadays, though being with one never bodes well for her in the past. However, there is something about this male that sets him aside from the run of the mill. Scars litter and deform his body, so the buckskin canvas that must have been flawless from birth, has met something evil along the way. Perhaps he deserved it, Taryn thinks as she straightens herself, her ears pricking forwards to hear what this scarred stranger has to say.

HIS choice of words are interesting, and the chestnut pulls her lips back in a grin, exposing yellowed teeth as she tosses her head in a mock fashion of some of these prettier, flashier mares she has seen wandering these lands, those who stand like a beacon and wait for the lusty to flock to them in their masses. ‘Don’t you like it?’ She teases. Perhaps once she was like that, but her time is over, she is no longer unspoilt. Taryn’s priorities are finding somewhere she is accepted, and where she can thrive, not a competition of who can make the prettiest looking couple.

SHE resumes a more normal stance, blinks and purses her lips. ‘Oh but don’t you know? Beauty is as beauty does after all, besides, I was a lady once. I know the ropes.’ She says with a chuckle, the sound scratching the back of her throat. ‘Are you going to tell me your name or shall I just call you Scar Face?’


theme xx image

Posted Image




____________________________________________
in these cages we call walls ~
[ OFFLINE ] [ PROFILE ] [ QUOTE POST ] [ GO TO TOP ]
 
Bibliobibuli
Member Avatar

Posted Image
Lines © LadyX-LT.

His attention was drawn to her ablaze figure, intently studying what would be his. She spoke, her wit further sealing the deal, where she would join him in his cauldron of hell home. The maimed stallion was interested, he wanted her. If there was one thing his washed up sire had taught him, it was what embarrassing events might come when you have no initiative. The lead mare runs off and conceives with another stallion, which one would think was worse enough, but to have the other stallion come and challenge for the lead mare, and decline the opportunity to spill the vermin’s blood.

He willingly let his chance for revenge go. If it were up to Adonis he would have seized the sweet feeling of the grey’s windpipe crushing under his hell-bent hooves, and thirstily plot how to permanently do away with the pregnant whore. No, such treason by a bigot would not go unpunished under his rule. Still to come was the day Adonis would kill his sire, letting the old man deplete in his dying pride, hoping he would suffer miserably with age and the desertion of his clan of weak minded mares before he would end his suffering. ”Oh well isn’t that clever.” He cackled, amusement expressed with a shake of his dome. ”Luck you, beauty is not tolerated in my grisly world. I’d much rather adorn it with dancing skeletons such as yourself.”

That amusement never left his features, it was joined by a wink of his scarred facade, head inclining to tilt ever so slyly to his side. ”Ah, such sweet nickname. Scar face. It’s fitting, no? I like it.” Grinning to reveal crooked, yellow teeth he steps closer. ”Formally I’m known as Adonis.” With that he huffed a current of breath towards the mare made of fire, lifting her forelock off to reveal her crooked white.”I think I will call you Skully, unless of course you have a better idea.”
Edited by Bibliobibuli, Jul 20 2014, 02:03 AM.


Posted Image

Hiatus from Kormada! Message me to find where I play now :)


[ OFFLINE ] [ PROFILE ] [ QUOTE POST ] [ GO TO TOP ]
 
devotchka
Member Avatar
WELL SWEET MOTHER TERESA ON THE HOOD OF A MERCEDES BENZ
Posted Image

TARYN
' i won't cry for you see, when you're gone i'll still be bloody mary '
________________________________________________________________________


WITH a sinking feeling resting in her gut, Taryn realises this is it. There is no procession, no one to declare her royalty (although she already knows she is), just this stallion riddled with scars who is prepared to taunt her as good as she gives him. It is not the glorious beginning she envisioned for herself, but it is a start. Kestrel and the other Gods of old must have sent this stallion, to what purpose the chestnut does not know, but she has faith. Everything will become clear, soon she will have her path to follow. Right now she has the business of getting onto that path, for which the scarred buckskin will probably be useful. She wonders what he must have done, to earn such a high price for his coat. It must have been something awful, and all of a sudden Taryn does not want to know anything more about this stallion. Yet, she only has one road to leave this place, and he is just that.

SHE flashes another grin of grizzly teeth at him, revelling in his mockery, for now at least. She would keep him entertained for the time being, there is no point showing her bad manners now. Taryn settles for a satisfied smirk that runs along her bony features, her body shifting as she looks up at the stallion. His words are hardly fit for wooing a lady, but as established earlier, the chestnut mare is hardly that at all. However, her boldness pays off, he seems amused with her little nickname she has made up for him. Taryn bows her head once more, playing up to her dramatics. ‘I prefer Scar Face if that’s all the same to you.’ She says, a little teasingly.

TARYN remains still, feeling the reddish tuft of front mare fly away from her face as the stallion reveals one of her few white markings – a blaze that crooks round her face. Her older brother was also given the blaze, which was often how they were connected as siblings, as they looked miles apart, and acted it too. She snorts at his name. ‘Skully will do.’ She says with a twisted smirk. ‘But others know me as Taryn.’ She says, after all, a fair game was to swap information. ‘What can you offer me Adonis, before I pick you. As you can see, I am very much in demand.’ She says, with a sweep of her bony head, a sneer settling on her features as she waits for the stallion’s reply.




theme xx image
Posted Image




____________________________________________
in these cages we call walls ~
[ OFFLINE ] [ PROFILE ] [ QUOTE POST ] [ GO TO TOP ]
 
1 user reading this topic (1 Guest and 0 Anonymous)
ZetaBoards - Free Forum Hosting
Free Forums with no limits on posts or members.
« Previous Topic · Homeless · Next Topic »