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Post by MissParadox on Jun 14, 2010 18:12:53 GMT -6
Dasor This is my world now and things are about to change Golden bodice weaved cautiously through the dense scrub his tiny round daggers carefully placed as to avoid being tripped up by lose trees and roots. Two blank orbs were set out before him drawing a path through the forest for which he could follow. He was wondering aimlessly and this annoyed the already frustrated brute greatly, for he hated those who just wondered with noting to do and no were to go. Yet here he was in a land surprisingly unknown to him just bloody wondering.
Keeping up this punishing pace that was more than likely going to trip the brute up yet Dasor kept it for reasons probably even unknown to himself. He sent out his well trained senses, trying to sense other equines around him. Not that it was company that he desired, no more the need to find his own amusement in this bleak boring day of his. He could smell that of another equine, granted it was a faint smell and most likely born out of his imagination that anything else However he picked it up and followed it all the same.
It was the view of a perfect little valley that met Dasors wanting gaze as he broke free of the dense trees, not the view of another equine like he had hoped for. His frustration rang out clearly around him in the sound of a angry cry. Delicate maw held high above his withers as he pranced arrogantly into this perfect little waste of land. If he couldn't find something to do, perhaps that something would come to him.
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Post by "skeleton christ <3 on Jun 14, 2010 20:50:14 GMT -6
``beatrice
[/color][/size] "Behold the beast, for which I have turned back;
Do thou protect me from her, famous Sage,
For she doth make my veins and pulses tremble." [/size][/font][/color] [/size] A seventeen point three hand female sauntered slowly through the terra, her azure eyes scanning her surroundings. A warm spring breeze scented with flowers and other foliage moved through the valley. Emerald blades of grass littered every inch of this valley. Her luxurious alabaster dreads tickles her healthy nape. Slate daggers sliced harshly into the earth's breath-taking features, pressing down against the green blades of grass. Healthy feminine muscles rippled like an ivory ocean under her supple white canvas. Triangulars twitched at the zenith of her regal cerebrum, listening to the symphonic melodies of the birds perched in tall trees. Their little songs were obnoxious but she payed no attention. Carbon dioxide slipped from between her delicate nasal passages and her ribcage expanded and contracted with each steady breath. There was a couple other equines and wolves frolicking and conversing in the lands. She was merely a lone femme. She was from the white alliance. But she was not your typical angel. Her alabaster pelt was stained with blood as well. She killed those of the black alliance without mercy. She hated the fuckers and how they treated everyone. They acted like they owned the god damn world and it annoyed her. It was easy for her to kill almost anyone. Her enamels were as sharp as scalpels and her daggers were like chainsaws. And those features along with her increased strength made her a fearsome enemy, if you were stupid enough to fight her. Occasionally, her scalpel-like teeth cut her tongue. No, it wasn’t just ‘occasionally’, it was nearly all the time. Blood always seemed to be running out of her mouth. She had gotten used to the pain and, over time, her mouth had gotten calloused and a bit tougher than it used to be. The taste of that iron-like liquid constantly lingered upon the surface her her taste buds, refusing to leave no matter how much of that cool water she drank. Crimson fluid made a stark contrast against her ivory coat as it slowly ran from between her closed lips. Her thick whipcord snapped viciously at her hind legs, flicking away the blood-sucking pests. The aureate sun hung in the sapphire hued firmament by invisible suspenders, sending down a warm glow of light. A low growl fell from between her tightly clenched fangs.
The ivory femmora's history was a gory one. She was named Beatrice at birth, from the name of a female character in the poem, Dante's Inferno. She would not tell anyone anything of her history. Only that it was filled with blood and violence. She had a lover named Dante, ironically. And he was also caught up in her past filled with noxious events that tortured her soul. She was a mysterious mare. Most equines yearned for her name and she was reluctant giving that out as well, from her unfortunate paranoia. Though she was from the white alliance, she had slowly lost her mind from lack of sleep. Ah, the dreaded insomnia. Insomnia was a lady dressed in white, constantly flicking at your head just as you were about to dose. She cursed everyone she touched by giving them a sleepy look. Beatrice did not have that sleepy look but there was something about her that looked...off. She certainly was not normal upon meeting her. She was extremely antisocial, not wanting to speak to anyone, which was also a contributor to her insanity. She developed sadistic personality disorder, from feeling nothing for those around her. But she refused to sink to the low levels of the equines and canines from the black alliance who killed all in their paths.
Her blood-scented breath tainted the flower-scented oxygen slithering through this place like a large serpent. She moved through the swarthy arms of the woodlands surrounding this place, meandering through foliage, sharp tree branches leaving little scratches upon the epidermal surface of her skin. She moved out of the bushes, letting her azure orbs scan several times over the terrain. Sturdy pillars swung with controlled ease to push her elegant frame along, slicing through the atmosphere like a knife. Her expressive eyes fell upon a stud hued with gold. She was quite tempted to go up and speak to him. But that would go against what she was about. It's not like I need anyone to talk to..., she muttered in her bone-encased mind. She lowered her regal cerebrum and nipped gently at the emerald grass. She didn't even have to pull it up out of the earth. Her sharp teeth cut it on contact. She quirked an invisible brow, shaking her dial in disgust.
words; 769
muse; not bad.
listening to; sister charlatan - bleeding through
notes; i hope that post was okay. [/blockquote] |
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Post by MissParadox on Jun 15, 2010 19:19:47 GMT -6
Dasor This is my world now and things are about to change Long golden pillar splashed with a healthy amount of white was placed forward twisting into the muddy depths, absently he toyed with the mud leaving only when a pattern of eleven sharp strikes were drawn into the dark ground. His blue tribal markings twisting up the same same leg dimmed slightly as he did so. Eleven was the number that was taken from him, eleven was the amount that was killed in his name, eleven had been led to there deaths by him. For each one he would sacrifice another eleven living beings. Eleven by eleven, well that would make . . . A hundred and twenty one funny how that works now isn't it? A sadistic smile filtered across his delicate maw as he focused on the eleven strikes in the ground slowly disappearing as the mud swallowed them up back into the wet earth. His concentration was ripped away as the sound of wood against a live being and daggers across wet ground met his ears. Looking up quickly in the direction to see another equine sidle in her colour caught his attention at once, for he was partial to light coloured horses. More than partial, you could even say he had an obsession. Even so the number eleven lingered within his brain box and that single number was the only thing that could bring him back from such an obsession. Yet by the time he had replaced his blue orbs with the sight of the scared earth the scars had all but disappeared and melted. It was a inward growl of frustration and a low toss of his golden head that followed and he quickly moved on away from the mud that now looked the same as every other patch of mud.
" Lo Fae " he called out across the clearing. She had distracted him from his work and his musings. Something that she could pay for by being his entertainment for the afternoon. They were predictable bastards arrogant brutes were that is. Dasor was no exception. His markings once again glowing at full strength even though his dislike for the light and its kind was the current reason for his pent up anger. But he would rather wear a crown of blue then red so at times like this he wore his colours with a respect if not pride. Daggers reaching up high with a level of self importance that well exceeded his actual charm, but he pulled it of with white banner high over his toned hindquarters and neck arched. He covered the distance between fae and brute quickly all previous thoughts of that damned number and his quest pushed to the depths of his mind once more. She was a considerable height taller than he and her structure looked enough to crush him with the utmost of ease. His pathetic frame and useless height has made him an average fighter even against a fae, for he had learnt young not to under estimate mares. It was what made him prone to run from dangerous situations, an elevated level of endurance only aided him in his escape routes. Hardly a coward he just enjoyed his own hide and keeping it in tact. Stopping some feet before her allowing her to keep her own space for the time being, there would be no doubt plenty of time later to invade it. "Planning on staying awhile sweetheart?" voice was low yet had the air of command to it one that gave the impression he was used to giving direction. He paused for a moment time enough to look her over, evaluating her. Beyond her striking colour she seemed to be one able to hold her own, so in turn he gave his name freely " They call me Dasor, and you are?" Dragging crystal blue orbs to capture her own he waited for a response, rocking his weight back into his hindquarters ready to pounce or move if need be.
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