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| Getting Off the High Horse (Eliza); Peregrine falls off his favorite horse, Vollo and rolls down a small cliff whilst his mount goes galloping off. | |
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| Tweet Topic Started: Jul 21 2010, 07:02 PM (187 Views) | |
| Peregrine Alexander | Jul 21 2010, 07:02 PM Post #1 |
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Prince of Saor
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[blockquote]![]() just paint the picture of the perfect place they got it better than what anyone's told you[blockquote] MacPrinceypants was out for a ride. Well, MacPrinceypants wasn’t his real name, mind you, nor did anyone dare call him that to his face. His name was Peregrine Alexander, crown prince of Saor and he was one of the most intolerable people in Inverness Castle, well, after the king himself and his brothers…his sisters, his mother and about twenty other people. So, it probably depended on your point of view. Anyway, moving on… Vollo was a mighty, but temperamental beast of considerable size and intelligence. Most days, he preferred slumbering in his stall to being paraded around by his master, but Peregrine rarely allowed his horse that luxury. His blood bay coat shimmered in the summer sun and his black mane blew in the slight breeze as he pranced up a moorland hill, his nostrils flared, his eyes flitting around in their sockets, watching for every moment, his ears up, alert and listening. His body was notched tight and ready to spring. Unfortunately, this meant that this was not one of Vollo’s sleepy days. Peregrine, as he was indeed a horseman, knew this and took note of this and ignored it, positive that he could keep his mighty steed under control. He moved into higher ground, fighting Vollo more as the horse started spooking at the movements of rodents and jerking at the bit. He didn’t want to run. He wanted to buck, rear, hop and twist his body in order to get Peregrine out of the saddle and onto the ground. The prince began to get flustered, jerking back on his reins and only making the problem worse. Finally, they made it to the top of the cliff and began riding alongside it. A grin broke out on his face and for a moment, everything was going well, as the pair rode. And then, everything went downhill. From somewhere in his horsey memory, Vollo got the bright idea to scare the living daylights out of his master. Pinning his ears against his poll, the stallion turned his hindquarters around. Peregrine dealt him a swift blow with the whip. Vollo hopped, made a small squealing sound in the back of his throat and then, without hesitation, started backing down the hill. For a moment, Peregrine didn’t know what was going on. Then, his equestrian instincts kicked into full gear and he sunk his spurs into his mount’s barrel, but to no avail. Vollo simply backed up faster. Peregrine’s eyes widened and he started getting truly worried. He kicked his mount and his entire body tensed incontrollably as the horse faltered and started moving faster down the hill. Jaw clenched, hands shaking, Peregrine did the natural thing and tried to curl up on Vollo’s back. His voice came out high and squeaky. “Forsooth, Beast!” He squealed, hauling on the reins. He kicked Vollo in the sides and Vollo, who had obviously had enough of his horseplay, casually kicked up his heels, threw his head up and swerved sideways, in quick succession. Peregrine, who wasn’t sitting in a position that would play in his favor when trying to stay on a cantankerous horse, flew up in the saddle and came down painfully, without his stirrups. Vollo’s muscled neck met his face and he slipped dazedly onto the horse’s side. With a half-whiny of delight, Vollo surged forward at a gallop, letting his master slid onto the ground as he took off into the highlands yonder, bucking as he went. But the prince didn’t have time to see his horse disappearing from sight, for he was rolling over and over down the hill. Finally, he hit the bottom, muddy moorland, with a “flept” and a groan. He lay there for a moment, winded. Then, with another moan of pain, he dug the hilt of his dirk from his abdomen and sat up. He was covered in mud, grime, sweat and he was bleeding from small abrasions. Running a hand through his hair, he clenched his first around a few stands of black horse hair, uttering a Gaelic curse. Just a minor detail, but his horse had to be halfway to France by now. [/blockquote]all the right moves and all the wrong faces so yeah we're going down WORD COUNT: 705 LISTENING TO: I Am What I Am - La Cage aux Folles, sung by John Barrowman LYRICS CREDIT: All the Right Moves - One Republic NOTES: I'd like Vollo to remain uncaught for the time-being, please and thank you. TAGGED: Elizabeth Canning [/blockquote] |
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1:43 AM Jul 11
