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do you want to touch, yeah!; soignee | neutral mare
Topic Started: Jul 20 2015, 04:48 PM (376 Views)
kimmys
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[justify=500]
SOIGNÉE
[swahn - YAY]

There's a special kind of magic in walking to someplace new. Perhaps it's the aspect of the unknown, or some measure of anticipation and expectation. Whatever it is, Swan loves the feeling. In seven years she's managed to avoid this particular gathering area, lest stallions get the wrong idea before she was ready to let it be the right idea. But that time had finally come. The freedom of travelling where she wanted, when and with whom she desired had been a fantastic experience that she would highly recommend to her daughters, should she ever have them, but Swan had never intended to live her entire life that way. She'd known, ever since she was a nubile filly, that once she'd gotten her taste of freedom that she would find a suitable stallion and settle down.

She couldn't have picked a better time to do so, either. Spring had dawned on Kormada once more and the planet was warming from a long, chaotic winter. Stallions were in the process of making babies, meeting babies, or lusting after the mares that would raise those babies. Swan didn't intend to saddle herself with both a claim and a foal all at once, as that seemed like twice the loss of freedom that she'd been enjoying most of her life. But she knew well that sometimes things happened. Either way, she felt herself fully capable of dealing with whatever came.

For now though, as she settled comfortably beneath the spotty shade of a tree that was not quite as leafed out as it's brethren, she decided that she would simply horse-watch, and see what came her way.


[/justify]
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Kat.
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S k y f a l l
"Let the Skyfall, when it crumbles we will stand tall, let the Skyfall"
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[justify=700] The grullo stud had turned heads where ever he had travelled in his eight years of life. He was not so much flashy with chrome so much as his coat was distinctly unique. It was safe to say that not many other equines were blessed with a reverse brindled pelt and deep emerald green eyes. Skyfall had been blessed with pure Andalusian breeding giving him an elegantly arched neck, deep chest and a well muscled rump. The stud had smooth graceful gates and a thick black mane and tail. He had just recently claimed the territory named Glimmer which was located on the Northern Mainland. He had stumbled upon the territory while traveling and after a week of living in the small patch of paradise he had decided to make it his own. He wished his daughter Vespa had still been around to enjoy the lush landscape of his newly claimed home but she had left him to begin her own life a few months before he had come upon Glimmer. However children moving away from their parents was the way of the world and though he would miss her company dearly he knew she would find a good stallion to begin a family with.

A soft sigh fell from his dark lips as he wandered through the homeless in search of a few mares to fill the void his daughter had left behind. It was time for him to begin again and this time in earnest. Family had always been important to him, however it was only when the last of his three daughters--and the only one to have survived into adulthood--had moved away that he realized how alone he was. It was his search for companionship that had ultimately lead him to claim Glimmer and begin the search for mares well suited to his relatively peaceful lifestyle.

In his past he had moments of deep regret and sorrow. He had strove hard to control his temper that only once had gotten the best of him. It was in that moment that he had killed a young colt and he had regretted that lapse in his control more than anything else in his eight years of life. Taking away that colts life had been a turning point and he was a better equine because of that serious lapse. He had never brought it up to his daughter and the colts death was something that would continue to remain private. Though everyone had their demons and secrets in their past, it was about moving forward with ones life and learning from the mistakes.

Skyfall turned away from his inner thoughts as he reached the main clearing in the homeless grounds. He stood surveying the few mares that were taking up residence in the clearing. His deep emerald green eyes flitted over a few female forms, but none that caught his eye until he saw the feathered beauty standing not too far away from where he himself stood. A smile curled up his face as he picked up his head and moved closer to her. She had no stallions surrounding her which was a surprise given her beauty, but Skyfall would take advantage of the opportunity, knowing that it might not be the case for long. As he approached he realized she was taller than him but it did not bother Skyfall. He had never worried himself over height or breeding or flashy colors, instead he would rather choose his mares based on personality. Of course he was not immune to a pretty face, but if that was all the mare had to offer, the mare was simply not for him.

Skyfall approach and huffed softly to the mare in greeting a smile lingered on his regal features. "I am Skyfall ruler of Glimmer in the Northern Mainland, do you mind if I join you?" His green eyes friendly and intent on the mare before him. There was something about her that attracted him, perhaps it was the confidence with which she stood or maybe it was simply the aura that she projected, but what ever it was he hoped that she would allow him to stay longer and get to know her. He sensed that there was something more to this mare than just a pretty face and it intrigued him greatly.
[/justify]


. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ruler of Glimmer.
Claimer of None.
8 y/o - Reverse Brindled Grullo w. Green Eyes - Andalusian - 16.1hh - Foundation
Father of Prime, Lunaris & Vespa.
Posted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted ImagePosted Image

No.
Alecto Does Not Have A Lisp.
It is just the way he talks. Sort of like a Snake.
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madie
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[justify=400]
Mountains have crumbled into the sea in the time that Fenrir had last slipped into these lands. He had been younger then. The Lullen had not yet taken him. He had not yet sired the masses that are his progeny (an unfortunate number of them male). Perhaps, the small legion that are his children pale in comparison to the old blood that has choked Kormada for so long, but his is a special line. He is the last living, and only son of Miedo: a stallion who had been great in his own right, albeit, not well known.

Before Kormada, there were the lands of Hell. Miedo had taken the throne of Envy, and for a time he reigned over the home of the Leviathan. Then came a pinto stallion to challenge for Miedo’s seat. Young, and arrogant, Miedo faced his first defeat. The Leviathan swallowed him whole, and somehow the black stallion was spat out through the Vaporous Eye, and to his surprise, alive. At least, that is the legend. Yet, for a stallion who had transversed purgatory, and was washed in the blood of the seven sins of hell, he had been kind, and loving, and all too caring. But, mostly he had been absent, and it left an ache in the heart of Fenrir’s dam.

Perhaps, his absence is what turned Fenrir into what Miedo was always meant to be: Dark, and loyal only to himself. Loving families do not build creatures such as Fenrir. Absent fathers, and heartbroken mothers… those are the things that craft greed, and envy, and the need to have control.

He slips quietly, like a red-black shadow through the trees. The whisper of the wind through the branches overhead mask the sound of his approach. The lure of Spring scent has broken him from the Lullen, and cast him out to wander in search of new blood. He is not surprised to find these lands relatively bare after the recent destruction. Many had died during the Scourge, and many more with the fall of the other continents. Fenrir had heard the groan of Kormada from his place among the rotwood of his home. Their world has been cleansed.

Unfortunately, Fenrir notices as he comes across a mare and stallion conversing beneath the shade of a scraggly old tree, there is at least one straggler not eaten by the Scourge, or crushed beneath the Loftland. If he were a kinder stallion (perhaps, more like his father) he might have left the brindled stallion to attempt to woo the lady before him. He chuckles to himself, because he is not.

“Hello, beauty.” He says, and it becomes apparent, as he takes his place beside her, that he will be her Beast. Despite his age, Fenrir is still a daunting, handsome sight. His mane falls wildly - twisted and unkempt. His neck is proud, and powerful, and he would do nothing, save delight in a chance to display his might should Skyfall decide to get physical. He dismisses the other stallion after a quick glance, as if to say ‘Don’t waste your time.’ Woman such as this are not meant for stallions with no ambition.

“I am Fenrir.” he says as he reaches to exchange breaths with the mare beside him.
[/justify]

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antimony . balor . chaul . desdemona . eidothea . malady . opium . rowtag . ryse . scorn . sköll
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kimmys
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[justify=500]
SOIGNÉE
[swahn - YAY]

These lands are a far cry from what Swan imagines they were perhaps only four years ago, when this largely empty expanse might have been filled with homeless mares. But Kormada has not enjoyed a benevolent span of time in as long as Swan could remember, and she's partly certain that the stories she'd heard from her elders of calm days when no disasters loomed were only fiction, based in the wishful claims of those old enough to forget tragedy. The Scourge had stolen many, and Swan knows that she and her family were of the few to escape wholly intact. Instinctually she takes this as confirmation that she is made of higher quality than the majority of her peers, which is further evidenced by the devastatingly beautiful skin that she wears.

Thus, there is no surprise evident in her cerulean eyes as the first suitor approaches before she could have counted to ten. As he comes closer, she appraises him as one might livestock, assessing the angles of his body, the shape of musculature in contrast to bone. Triangulating all of this with the pretty hide he wears and the way a benign smile is already broadening his lips, as though he expects that she - beautiful haughty thing she is - will melt as other mares likely have. But as he draws to a halt, Swan thinks that this assumption is perhaps misguided. Undoubtedly mares would fall at his feet - he is a pretty one - but the way kindness oozes out of him leads her to believe that's he's more of a goody two shoes. One that believes in true love and kisses his daughters before they curl up to sleep in the same grove. Probably one that tells himself that he's here to look for a mare with the right personality.

So many stallions convinced themselves that they wanted sweet, compliant mares. At least the darks were slightly more honest with themselves. They at least admitted that they only really wanted the pretty ones, but even they claimed that they wanted mindless bimbo's that would obey their every word. As if. Whether they would admit it or not, all stallions wanted mares that would challenge them in the right way. Mares that were too pretty to let go but ones that wouldn't roll over and take their every command like it was the word of god.

Mares like Soignee.

His speech is only slightly stilted, and just as obnoxious as she imagines it would be in all the years that she's avoided this moment, though she hides this thought from her face. Is he really asking if she minds if he joins her? What, did he think Swan had come here to talk to herself? And did she really need to know his home in the same breath as his name, as though she needed a roadmap to his herd before she even knew anything about him? Laughable, really. This sort of non-communication had always amused her because the real conversation was about to begin, and she would be the one to direct it.

Swan greets him with a sweet smile, tilting her elegant head to imply that all of her attention was on him, which it was... mostly. There was still an extraordinarily high possibility that someone else would approach. She was a delicacy in these parts, after all. Swan keeps her black rimmed ears pointed in his direction until he finishes talking, at which point she lowers her gaze coyly, dropping it for half a second, not wanting to give him the impression that she was shy, only that she was flattered by his attention.

"Of course not, Skyfall." Even as the words slip past her pale lips, she can see a shadow sliding closer. Genuinely distracted for a moment, she stares as he slips confidently through the two of them, settling in a self-assured manner at her shoulder. Swan can't help it - she's thoroughly amused by his confidence. She's seen it before but it's a less common sight than are stallions that will say whatever she wants in an attempt to please her. Less common are the stallions like this one, who, like her, are so self-confident that it sets them apart on a basic level. It piques her interest, and she allows him a smirk that draws her pale lips together. When he extends his muzzle to exchange their scents, a custom that is perhaps not as prevalent as it had once been, she does the same, a little thrill running through her spine at the feel of his breath on her skin.

"A pleasure," Swan purrs, her blue eyes sweeping up to Fenrir and then back across to Skyfall. It is clear here which stallion represents good and honest and kind things, the potential for a little close-knit family perhaps, and which stallion represents the dark side, metaphorically. The one who will likely try and pick her up, chew on her and spit her out, the one who will not be there for the family that he creates unless Swan demands it of him. The idea of a challenge invigorates her, but she's not so rash as to make a decision yet. As cliche as it was, she knows that this represents a monumental choice and will decide the rest of her life. As a pretend rogue, she'd been free to flit from stallion to stallion because all of them knew that they had no hold on her, but such things would no longer be the case. Perhaps Skyfall, if she were unhappy, would release her claim in the future, but she knows just from looking at this handsome Fenrir character that he would not. She would have to rely on some other male happening across her and deciding to fight for her, and Swan loathes leaving her future in the hands of fate alone.

In all honesty, that makes Skyfall the obvious choice. The one that would make the most sense for a mare, although one that represents no challenge at all. Swan can't help but think that her beauty would be wasted as a stay at home mom, which, as far as she can tell, is really all he would want of her. Of course, she could be wrong. She can't x-ray his mind or divine his thoughts, but she can assume by his good boy exterior that he's a lover, not a fighter.

And Fenrir, on the other hand. The overo believes that he's the kind of stallion most fillies are warned about. His dark allure could bend the strongest of wills, including her own and she knows it. Like a moth to flame, she's drawn the danger of him, the risk of choosing him calls to her heart and a private grin resurfaces on her lips at the thought. However, she's not one to make others wait without good reason and so she addresses Fenrir, who is closest, although her gaze flickers up to Skyfall even as she does so.

"Soignee." Pointedly she leans back slightly and then obviously drags her gaze Fenrir's body as though the proximity of he and his masculine strength weren't already setting her nerve endings on fire. A twinkle of mischief sparkles in her eyes as she turns her head ever so slightly back to Skyfall and realizes that they've conveniently left the talking to her. "So, boys, tell me about yourselves."


[/justify]
Edited by kimmys, Jul 28 2015, 03:00 PM.
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devotchka
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WELL SWEET MOTHER TERESA ON THE HOOD OF A MERCEDES BENZ
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N O X
' i don't care, go on and tear me apart, i don't care if you do '
_________________________________________________________


[justify=700]HE is not fond of the homeless, but at this point in his life, Nox welcomes the trivial distraction. The Canal feels so large and empty without his sire, his grandparents, and the other herd members wandering around. The stallion misses them all terribly. He has tried to remain strong in front of his half-brother, but during the travel here, he has been able to be alone, and deal with his emotions. He has left Tybalt to look after the land whilst he is away – the colt’s first big test. Nox is not worried. Barrow Canal is secluded and has never been a prime target for stallions after new homes, but he feels more fatherly towards the boy than he does brotherly and he will be relieved to be home again.

SPRING almost makes the common grounds pleasant and Nox can’t help but feel closer to his chronological age as he strides through the trees. He has had to grow up considerably in the last few years, and although the stallion is only in his prime, he feels much older. In the warmer weather his coat has begun to fade into a lighter brown and faint dapples appear on his flanks, whereas in the winter he looks nearer to ebony. The homeless is surprisingly busy, although it is the season where stallions pursue mares the most. With a pang he remembers the pretty sabino mare who almost stayed with him. Another burden to a young but crippled heart.

HE pauses, watching a brindled stranger talking to a mare. In all honesty, Nox’s eyes slide past the stallion to the overo form who lounges under the patchwork shade. She is good looking, very good looking in his opinion, and it would seem that Nox is not the only one in thinking so. Another stallion materialises from the copse, this one more forwards as he reaches in to exchange breaths with her. A younger, braver version of himself would have been over there in a shot, confident he would knock all competition out of water. But the lanky stallion hesitates, is it too soon? Perhaps someone bigger than himself would tell him to get over himself. It takes Nox a second to recover himself, before he approaches.

NOX approaches, not bothering to make his presence known especially. He reaches the group in time to catch her name – a pretty calling to fit her exterior. Although as the young stallion is discovering, looks can paint such a deceiving picture. ‘Apologies for interrupting.’ He says, his tone surprisingly level. ‘My name is Nox. Nice to meet you.’ He offers a brief smile, praying it isn’t blindingly obvious that this is the first time he has done this. Aderyn had been so straight-forwards, so simple. This whole set up made him undesirably uncomfortable.
[/justify]


' cause in a sky, 'cause in a sky full of stars, i think i saw you '
x x

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____________________________________________
in these cages we call walls ~
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Kat.
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S k y f a l l
"Let the Skyfall, when it crumbles we will stand tall, let the Skyfall"
. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .

[justify=700]
He saw the judgement in her gaze, the haughtiness in her stance, and the way her eyes mocked him. He was no fool when it came to mares, he was not stupid yet here this mare stood looking down at him as if he was foolish for offering polite conversation. It made the smile fall from his lips into a hard line. He did not enjoy being mocked and perhaps this mare was not such the prize he initially appraised her as. There was certainly a difference between a mare who was confident in her looks and one that thought the world of themselves. He tended to avoid the latter mares. Skyfall was up for a challenge however the mockery he could not stand for, and call it silly pride but mares who lied to themselves would lie to others as well. He was broken out of his inner thoughts when the mare's attention slid away from him and to another stallion who has materialized next to the beautiful mare. There was something sinister about this stallion that pricked his nerves. The brute oozed confidence and whether it was well earned or not was not for Skyfall to judge. He was here for the mare. He had debated for a fraction of a second leaving the haughty mare to the other stallion but Skyfall hardly was not one to back down from a challenge. And having this mare fall under his claim would surely be an accomplishment in and of itself. However when put in that context it seemed as if he was simply looking for a trophy mare which is exactly what he was attempting to avoid. Who was this mare, with just her body language and a few simple hushed words provoke such thoughts. Most of them were unfounded, based solely on a gut feeling, but unsubstantiated none the less.

It was clear from the moment the other stallion had appeared at the mares side she had been amuse and attracted to him. Skyfall ignored these obvious outward cues and settled in deciding that while the mare might seem self centered and vain that she had depth beyond her good looks. It was uncovering the depth behind the vanity that would prove to be the biggest challenge. He sensed that she desired a challenge just as much as she would prove to challenge whoever claimed her. Skyfall had always been prisoner to his own insight. Perhaps he was over analyzing the mare. Perhaps the situation was simpler. Only a few words had been spoken yet he was already coming to conclusions as if he knew the mare personally. Was he not doing to her what he has so readily accuse her of doing to him? This mare was truly something to behold.

Once again he was broken from his churning inner thoughts as the mares name passed through her grey ashen lips. Soignée. It was a beautiful name to be sure. It sounded foreign on his lips as he breathed her name, letting it roll over his tongue. He had not spoken a word since his introduction, instead content to study Soignée as she had studied him. In all his life he had never gotten such the distinct impression that he did not measure up. An emotion that couldn't really be named surged through him. He wanted to prove for some reason that he was not just some pretty push over having got by on looks alone. It was almost laughable how in a matter of just a few minutes that she had him trying to prove himself instead of the other way around. A crooked smile curled up his lips as he listened to her question, or request rather to learn something about the two stallions before her. However before he could open his mouth another stallion approached. This one a far cry from the confident brute that was both threatening yet very casual in his stance. He could not help but think of a snake. The solid bay stallion introduced himself as Nox. Skyfall stored that away for later use, as he had the other stallions name. "What do you wish to know? That I am eight years old, that I consider myself to be fair & honest, or that I prefer a mare that can keep me on my toes intellectually?" A small smile fought its way on to his features which had fallen back into a flat line. What did she expect him to say that did not sound as if he were reciting a list of his qualities for her to judge? Skyfall realized that had been far to involved in analyzing something that might not even exsist. So instead of letting his ever churning inner thoughts recapture his focus he waited for the other stallions to respond to her question. He would not be surprised if she was annoyed with his question, but it was out of his hooves now. Now he simply watched and waited for the situation to unfold.

[/justify]


. . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . . .
Ruler of Glimmer.
Claimer of None.
8 y/o - Reverse Brindled Grullo w. Green Eyes - Andalusian - 16.1hh - Foundation
Father of Prime, Lunaris & Vespa.
Edited by Kat., Jul 29 2015, 12:13 PM.
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No.
Alecto Does Not Have A Lisp.
It is just the way he talks. Sort of like a Snake.
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madie
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[justify=400]
Fenrir is more than a serpent coiled lazily at the painted mare’s feet. Fenrir is all things deceptive and dangerous. Her breath warms the cold that runs through his veins, and he matches her private smile with one of his own - let her read into it what she will. It has been his experience that his methods are either met with fear, or with a lash of tongues; Fenrir delights in both. But, Swan feeds him something else. She offers her name, and then her pale eyes rove the darkness of his body, in much the same way he had appraised her before deciding that she was worth his attention.

“The pleasure is mine, Soingée” Thus far, he has thoroughly enjoyed their interaction. And then there is another buzzard to join the frenzy. Fenrir spares the bay stallion a fleeting glance. He seems uncomfortable - green to this entire situation. Somehow, Fenrir doubts that Soingée is the coddling type, but he wouldn’t put it past her to use Nox to manipulate the testosterone fueled actions of her suitors. Fenrir is not above a scuffle in the mud to win the claim of a mare. He could live without her affection, although relative compliance is somewhat easier to deal with.

‘So, boys, tell me about yourselves.’ she says, and being the somewhat well-mannered gentleman that Fenrir pretends to be on such occasions, the red-black beast waits his turn. He lends an ear to Skyfall while the brindled stallion speaks. Meanwhile, his lips trace the crook where Swan’s neck meets her shoulder, begging that she give him at least part of her attention. When Skyfall finishes, Fenrir pulls away, his dark eyes crawling along the arch of Swan’s neck, before meeting with Skyfall.

“Impressive.” he feigns, his expression one of mock praise for the brindled stallion. Fenrir has always been able to play his expressions to his advantage. Perhaps, that is the difference between he, and every other stone faced stallion. Fenrir is more believable in his lies, because he wears them upon his face as if they were the truth. So, when the tables turn to him, the ‘snake’ gives a smile that could make a child seem guilty of murder. He knows he isn’t fooling anyone. He can almost feel the discomfort that radiates from his counterparts with just his existence. Their confidence pales in comparison to Fenrir’s arrogant bravado. He lives for this type of strife, and it is evident in his every move. He is trouble, and he knows it.

“I’m sure you don’t picture me as a stallion with any regard for family.” He says, his voice similar to that of distant thunder. There is a softness masking the danger of it, the same way distance hushes the storm. “But, my daughters, and their mothers know that there is safety with me.” He does not mention his sons. Weylyn had been promising, but had abandoned his potential. To no surprise, Ylva, his sister, had too. Perhaps, there was just something awry with their genetics.

He does not mention that he prefers daughters to sons, because fillies do not often grow up expecting to be heir. In fact, a filly can be infinitely more valuable than a colt that will grow up to become competition. Fenrir has never understood the obsession of first born sons, and carrying the family name on for generations after a founding stallion is long dead. Fenrir himself plans to live forever. After all, he has survived the Scourge, and the destruction of half of the planet.

“I can offer you more than a life of bearing children, if you wish it.” He says, and there comes the flicker of greed, and lust in his eyes. Fenrir has always wanted - no - needed more. He needs more than the mares that have come crawling to him for the promise of power. He needs more than the wenches that have thrown their bodies at him for him to spoil.

“Do you know what you want, Soignée?” Because, I want everything.
[/justify]

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antimony . balor . chaul . desdemona . eidothea . malady . opium . rowtag . ryse . scorn . sköll
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