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| heaven, we hope, is just up the røad; xenia | |||||
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| Tweet Topic Started: Mar 27 2015, 09:15 PM (239 Views) | |||||
| baeriv | Mar 27 2015, 09:15 PM Post #1 | ||||
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Xenia had decided to feel her way towards the new scents in the air within an infinitesimal amount of time. Her heart pounded against her chest, adrenaline washing through the intricate network of veins, vessels, and arteries in her system. Her ears twitched upon her cranium maniacally, listening for any sound nearby. Her breathing was heavy, each intake forcing her nostrils to quiver in a sort of primal way, creating a snorting sound. Her creamy eyes stared blankly ahead, appearing intimately focused on whatever was ahead of her. In reality, they weren't focused at all. In the dim light of a beautiful sunrise, nothing was visible to the blind mare. Red lashed eyelids fluttered for a moment as she took in another sharp intake. Xenia's muscles rippled under her frosted copper coat as she willed forwards, increasing her pace from a relaxed sounder to a brisker pace. She was on the verge of a trot, but still walked. The awkward half gait may look strange... on others, but Xenia's natural grace made the overall frantic pace seem more appealing. Her bronze tail swayed behind her, tips dragging on the ground, yet not tangling or picking up any debris. It was as if the ground was mud, but her tail a repellent. The scents around her were strong, mostly mares. The thought pleased the roan mare. Being uncomfortable around stallions was one of her many, many quirks. Could it be possible this land was female-run? She laughed inwardly, her expression reamaining cold and nonchalant. Thinking a mare could run a land was ridiculous. It was that type of thinking that had gotten her blind, scared, and alone. She promised herself she would not make those same mistakes. If the world sought breeding mares with no intellectual value whatsoever, she would become a breeding mare with no intellectual value whatsoever. There was still one problem, though. She was undeniably, basically afraid, of stallions. Concealing her fears would not prove to be an easy task, yet it was one that needed to be done. All at once, her body went rigid and she halted in place. She smelt no others. All of the scents were old, tarnished by time. Was she truly alone? Her ears stopped their swiveling and remained still, one facing forwards and one facing backwards. The eeriness of her predicament settled in. She was a blind mare, probably trespassing some stallions property, in a land she had never been to. Her eyes fell shut (they were useless to her, anyways), and she focused on listening and smelling. Would anyone truly come to a mare that was probably feet from running into something without knowing it? She desired to move onwards, but her body was frozen. She was a deer in headlights, waiting. She dared not move away, because that would be preposterous. Instead, she waited for the danger to come to her, which to the girl, was a FAR better option anyways. out of character notes: that went better than expected for my first post with her! I'm excited to play her cx also I didn't know what to put in topic description so I put Xenia xD |
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| ƒierce | Mar 31 2015, 05:46 PM Post #2 | ||||
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i've not yet begun to defile myself.
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![]() The stallion remembered looking out over the land that he had called home nearly his entire life. He had first met his father there and his sister Meridian. He had had children there and lived with the mares of his herd. A herd that had withered. A father that was now dead. A son...that was dead. Thames breathed deeply, slowly, the air flaring his dove gray nostrils. One thing he had taken comfort in was that his granddaughter Magdalena, Judah's firstborn, had come to live in Holy Track for a time, pregnant with a child sired by a stallion she barely knew. This had instigated the brindled stallion to go about reclaiming his home, the reason he now wandered here in the Homeless. Thames had to make Holy Track a safe place for his granddaughter and unborn great-grandchild. To do that, he would have to rebuild his life and his herd. By coming here, Thames hoped to begin rebuilding his herd. No one would ever replace the mares he had known or claimed, but they were gone. Most for reasons unknown. But maybe, by hearing his name again, they would return to Holy Track. Removing them from his mind, the brindled stallion wandered forward. Despite his age, being just over fifteen years-old, there was nothing wrong with the stallion. Other than his recent depression that is. He was a handsome male, being largely a pretty pale gray, darker around his face by a few shades. His pelt was littered with rose gray brindling, something he had inherited from Covenant and passed on to Judah, Israël, and Magdalena. Thames's eyes were a pretty bright blue, something quite brilliant in a pale face. He was handsome and strong, looking to comfort and find love in a mare again. He thought on this for some time as he wandered the island, finally coming across a mare. She was pretty a red roan with a white face. Her body language did not say something of ease or curiosity. Her muscles seemed frozen, and the stallion cocked his head to one side. Blue eyes peered at her concerned. The brindle turned his body toward her and approached, nickering a greeting as a courtesy. "Hello, miss. Are you alright?" If his words did not express his concern for her, then his tone certainly did. Thames couldn't help himself. He always looked to help out another being. |
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| `d e p p | Mar 31 2015, 09:25 PM Post #3 | ||||
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I think everybody's nuts.
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![]() [justify=400]lines © LadyX-LT. . . . let me out of this dream . . . I really shouldn’t be here, honestly. And yet, here I am—by some means, somehow painstakingly, undeniably, seemingly invariably finding myself in the Homeless once again. Seem complicated? Tell me about it. But, to be fair, I haven’t crossed these borders in quite some time. Since the threat of the Scourge had begun long ago, I had hardly left my beloved land, for fear of the red plague descending on my mares. As it turns out, hardly a soul had escaped from the misfortune’s wrath unscathed—little biting burns, well scabbed over by now, still itch along my back—but luckily, I had not lost a precious life among my herd, unlike some other less fortunate families. But that is hardly the reasoning that I should be elsewhere now. Recently, much to my surprise—and undisputable delight—one of my mares (whom I had not seen in years) has returned! I had long ago come to terms with Thara’s disappearance, admittedly assuming her death, so you can imagine how I felt to see her lovely face again. However, the story behind her departure had not been a happy one. Evidently, between the moving of lands, she had been captured by some mysterious bloke who calls himself The Rogue. He had not been kind to her, to say the least—there was enough evidence of that in the scars that littered her hide. Just thinking about it still makes my lips harden and my heart pound with angry frustration. I should have been there! I was—am—her protector, I should have stopped that! I have lost many nights of sleep, beating myself up for failing her. As a herd stallion, my mares entrust me with their safety, and I have no choice but to rise up to their confidence. I can’t make another mistake like that again—I just can’t. And so, we finally get to the core of my reasoning. I shouldn’t be here. I should be home, back in the Towers, with my precious mares—ensuring that they are safe. But, as sometimes happens after a (double) border check, my mind begins to wander, soon followed by my feet. And for some godforsaken reason, my musings often lead me here. Ironic, I suppose. Too often the land of the disheartened, the destitute, the desperate—perhaps my subconscious is telling me something. I belong here. Huffing out a heavy sigh and flicking my tail through the warm air, I amble slowly forward, lingering only along the fringes of the Homeless, loosely following the path of a cliff. With the arrival of summer, the black stripes lacing my torso are the most visible, though they still can’t compete with the permanently-bold banding on my legs (irrefutably marking my heritage). My dark eyes roam out to nothing in particular, though as I round a wide corner, they rest on a stallion, who is approaching a mare. I take note of her less-than-comfortable posture, knowing the bearing well myself. Despite my seemingly frequent habits, this place isn’t at the top of my list. If it isn’t obvious, being charming isn’t necessarily my cup of tea. Still, considering the murkiness in her eyes, I would assume she is blind (knowing the similar blank stare in one of my own mares). She should probably know about the cliff that drops only feet from where she stands. “Hi,” I greet the pair oh-so-suavely, clearing my throat before addressing the mare, “I wouldn’t wander much farther forward, if I were you.” I mean—who am I to judge? If off the edge is her intention, then so be it; I’d be lying if I haven’t entertained such morbid thoughts in the past (now that’s an attractive conversation starter, isn’t it?) But still, I find myself instinctively stepping to block her path to the precipice. Perhaps there is some hero in me after all. But don’t worry—I won’t let it go to my head. ;; aeson rowan x siason || nine || neutral- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ -OOC: Sorry again that it took so long for me to reply! Also, this is extremely rambly, sorry if it gets old; I can sometimes run away with this goofball xD [/justify] |
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Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum! #EpicStrut ![]() paper faces on parade; | |||||
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| baeriv | Apr 3 2015, 01:11 PM Post #4 | ||||
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The nearby sounds of shuffling hooves caught her attention and her ears swiveled to the direction of the sound. The scent of the stranger was invading her nostrils and it was strange, to say the least. The girl couldn't quite pin what he smelled like. It was an odd mixture of earth and sweat. It wasn't a bad smell at all, and in fact, Xenia probably smelled similar. His voice was unfamiliar, it was kind, howevery. Still, worry and anxiety bloomed within her. Her breath hitches slightly, as she thought of the endless options of horrible things that could happen to her enters her mind. The stallion asks if she is alright. In response her prominently-nosed head. Eyes flickered open once again, they had been previously shut tightly. It would be a lie to say they were vibrant and lively when in reality they were the opposite. Her eyes were composed of one solid diluted blue color. Long-lashed eyelids fluttered delicately as she tried to turn her head towards wherever the sound was coming from. Xenia was used to the blindness and could easily locate someone by the sounds they made. Right now, her focus was pinpointed on the stallion, as if she was studying him. A bicker escaped his lips (she assumed), but it only did little to ease her nerves. She was coiled tightly, ready to run... where ever, if needed. "I don't know where I am." She admitted shyly, her voice a soft rumble. Suddenly there were three. She was alone in the company of two stallions, both probably a good twice her height. He greets her (them?) with a simple 'hi' before continuing, telling her not to continue on. Was that his territory? Was she forbidden from entering it? She heard him move to stand in front of her. The sounds of his hoofbeats ceasing when he was thoroughly blocking her path. Her head spun away from the first stallion's direction as she tried to look ahead of her, at whoever this one was. Now that it wasn't just her and him, she needed names. That's when her oh-so-creative mind spontaneously thought up two names. Gunner, for the first stallion that had approached her. The second stag that joined them and planted himself ahead of her would be called Gator. Both Gunner and Gator were silent, as if they expected her to say something, but she just stood there, fidgeting around awkwardly and constantly shifting her weight from left to right then right to left. The silence shattered as she decided to speak once more, but it was clear her voice was hesitant. "Why?" She side shuffled so Gator no longer blocked her path. Hesitantly stepping forward, almost tiptoeing, she vigilantly explores what is ahead of her. Firmly, one hoof is planted on the ground. Her eyes catch the stark contrasts of shadows and highlights. It wasn't really certain where the edge of the cliff, but it was quite clear it was ahead of her. If she had kept her eyes closed and continued walking she would be down there, splattered everywhere. "You can always trust me to find all the dangerous situations.." It was the truth. Xenia constantly found herself in life-threatening situations. Mostly, her clumsiness made them worse, but not today. She was safe for the time being. Gator had warned her if the dangers and Gunner was kind. Was their company all that horrendous? Not really, but still slightly uncomfortable. |
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| ƒierce | Apr 18 2015, 04:24 PM Post #5 | ||||
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i've not yet begun to defile myself.
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![]() "I don't know where I am," she said. The brindle turns his head toward the new stallion that arrives. Someone younger, maybe even bolder. Thames doubts himself. She was a young pretty mare, and most likely wanted someone her age. His ears twist backward a few degrees. Thames hadn't gotten a good enough look at her face to see that she was blind, assuming that she had known about the cliff. Still, the mare was nervous, deciding to try and explore what was ahead of her. Even though, there was just empty air. She said to find it a little humorous that she found a dangerous situation. Thames himself was a little uncomfortable. "I'm Thames, by the way." He glanced from her to the new stallion. |
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| `d e p p | Apr 21 2015, 05:50 PM Post #6 | ||||
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I think everybody's nuts.
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![]() [justify=400]lines © LadyX-LT. . . . let me out of this dream . . . It is awkward for a moment, silence falling heavily between the three of us. My gaze lingers on the red dun mare, one ear flicking forward, before it shifts to the other stallion. He must be older than myself, a bit leaner in build, sporting a brindle rather than a zebroid pattern. I daresay we cut quite an interesting picture together (not that appearances factor into anything at this point, for obvious reasons). I exhale out my nose, flicking my tail as I begin to turn my eyes back to the red maiden—but suddenly they snap back to the stallion. My stare isn’t sorely obvious (not like my head is turned or my body is angled to face him), but a little voice in my head tells me how ridiculous I must look, quietly gawking. Whatever. You see, I think I know him; or at least have met him. It’s been many years since then, so there’s no wonder why I hadn’t recognized him earlier, or why he doesn’t recognize me. Part of me hopes he doesn’t, in all honesty. He is, or was, the father to Chryseis, a mare of mine. Now that takes my mind reeling back. I close my eyes in a long blink, clearing my throat quietly as I take a second to compose myself. Even though it has been two and a half years since the tobiano mare’s premature death, it still stings. We hadn’t shared some special connection, but she was my mare, my responsibility, and seeing her life taken away had been brutal. However, I can’t allow myself to dwell on it now. I have long-since come to terms with Chryseis’ passing; I will not, cannot, let the guilt hinder my future. All of this occurs in a matter of breaths—the red dun’s voice brings me back, catching my attention. It is a brief inquisition, which has me mildly confused before she side-steps out of my path, and the course of our conversation returns to me. My ribcage expands as I prepare to answer, but I fall silent when she treads warily forward, investigating her surroundings. It doesn’t seem to take her long to discover the cliff. Her comment might be a little foreboding in this circumstance, but still my lips twist into a curbed smile and I let slip a rumbling chuckle from my tongue. It’s not always often we get to laugh—I have learned to take advantage of it (when I can). “They don’t seem to spread themselves out very well, do they?” I muse lightly, shifting my weight more comfortably. My brown eyes flick briefly to the brindled stallion when he introduces himself—Thames, I should have remembered that—before my attention is again captured by the mare. “And I am Aeson,” I bob my head once in a slight nod, “Might we know yours?” My voice is not necessarily friendly—not at all mean, but bordering between sarcastic and humorous. It is a tricky business, the Homeless grounds—infested with games and lies. I struggle to dance around the tricks. ;; aeson rowan x siason || nine || neutral- ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ - ~ -OOC: I assume Aeson didn't hear her say she didn't know where she was. I find it pretty funny that she doesn't quite realize that she's being courted xD [/justify] |
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Remember...if you feel glum, just shake your bum! #EpicStrut ![]() paper faces on parade; | |||||
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