Author:
Syndic
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Date Posted: 19:18:20 01/19/03 Sun
The niveous steed turns his crania only slightly, in the direction the last vocal pronunciation was issued from. Aerial. that name was familiar to him. and with the name came another quatrain. he grimaced mentally at it. the predictions were bothersome.. half the time he could not even control the utterance of them, and the other half he didn't realise it. he knew he had said something upsetting to the mare, for she had quickly ended their conversation, but he hadn't imagined until now that it waas a poem he had spoken.
sighing inwardly the ivory mascu turned his sightless gaze on the spaeaker, and inhaled the fragrance that the breeze brought to his nostrils. this one smelt of trouble. he said nothing of it, and withheld the instinct to step forward and touch this other brute. -- for a brute it was, ofcourse, no female carried the particular diverse aroma, or the resonating depth of a male voice.
he could see what they were doing? right at the second? what a power that was.. for one without the first sight, a second was only an unfulfillable dream to haunt his sleep times. but on the other hand, was that not inasion of privacy? did it not overstep the boundaies of formality that we follow? i suppose after individuals declare themselves opposed to the ruling monarch we revoke their fundamental rights. but still.. a useful tool that was.. to see the actions of others.
another thought caused a half smile to envellop his pallet, as the breeze stirred his sun-bleached mane and tail he ventured forth his first quiet speech. the words were masked in the low tone, his voice was a clear baritone, and yet the individual words were difficult to catch, to hold on to. the timber suggested his youth and the volume his age. for he had both - youth and age - one of physicality, one of mentality. with the loss of his sight he lost his childhood, and was required to quickly adapt to the ways of the adults.
excuse my interruption, but ultimately wouldn't stopping the duo before they launch their attack and awaiting their first move amount to the same thing? an isolated battle for control.
his features retain the passive smile and thoughtful observation they displayed upon his arrival, piqued by the tip of his head to portray his intent as he spoke. the words were only logic. though it did appear he was trying to protect the mutineers as they gathered their legs beneath them. realistically the stallion was undecided on his standing in all of this. he was fresh meat on the terra, had no authority or strength and would be of little use to either side.
however, poetry lilted through his psyche. and definitely there was a side he should be on. the music echoed throughout his labyrinth mind and set off alarm bells. but it was for him this song. his music, his rhythm. he was spared a pitifully futile attempt to subdue it from his voice.
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