</font></font></font></font>.[the path less traveled]. -- Paradise Isle

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Date Posted: 01:06:52 12/07/03 Sun
Author: Adrian
Subject: .[the path less traveled].
In reply to: Example of Death 's message, ":+:Death is Waiting:+:" on 15:16:52 12/04/03 Thu

The free-flowing, yet still unusually awkward, trot of the light tinged bay stallion carried him near, an underrated being of cunning and precision. One could not doubt that the thoroughbred was eccentric of thought and energetic of movement; it was as if there was no tiring the auburn horse. Evil was strangely downplayed by the blackpointed Adrian. Instead his tall, wiry frame and ruffled, dusty bland coat inspired a look of pure rebellion, unmet and unmatched. Wild in the eye, he was the epitome of an unleashed, daring beast. A do all, attempt all, gain all type of stallion. Go, go, go. There was no dissuading a spirit like Adrian. He would put those who tried to shame.

So, when this intense force field we knew as the Evil King sashayed all too ineloquently in the direction of Shazaam, Example of Death, and the other one, the aura of raw freedom surrounding him was almost intoxicating. Let everyone be warned. Scatter, lesser souls. He stopped with no greater amount of grace than he exhibited during motion.. the swayingly (almost offbalance) stance and the politically free way of holding himself. Adrian's offcolour apathy added to a recklessly different radical passion contridicted eachother so greatly it was scary to even think of them occuring in the same soul.

And a blithe little soul the rebel leader was.. well, to a certain extent. Actually, he would better be decribed as a rabid dog ever seeking vengeance upon unworthy foes. He would target the weak, the underpriviledged, the young. Adrian wanted a little sign of progress, something he thrived on. Not saying the auburn lacked sensitivity. The stallion would help just as soon as he would hurt. A two sided coin, this scrawny thoroughbred was. He was somewhat predictable yet at the same time just as unpredictable. Better keep guessing, the fun has barely begun.

An ebonite hoof extended itself forward to scrape violently across the sandy soil. Only with the divot created did Adrian to Power open his inky maw to speak.

Shazaam.

A quiet voice that was undoubtably the bay's reached the other's ears. It was a simple address.. nothing elaborate as really nothing of that nature was needed during this encounter. His own two black-tinged ears swivelled in the direction of the Sandman. The stallion's voice then spontaneously sharpened and his chocolate brown eyes (surely no friendly invitation) flashed with impending danger. Oh, but it might as well be an empty threat. Adrian made it appear real however. He directed his words towards the sandman.

Drop it, you. Now is not the time to become self-righteous. Be careful what you say and especially what you do. Do not disappoint me, light.

A smirk-like expression marred his tragically handsome mug. He conveniently avoided stating his name. This Sandman probably did not know what he looked like in person (or should we say "in horse"). However, Shazaam did know him and he would possibly beat him to the punch anyways. Brown eyes shifted to Example of Death. The stallion grinned, displaying his ability to change his demeanor quickly and without a hitch.

How is Dark Evergreens faring with my absence? And how is Gingerbread? I have caught word of her foal. What's his name? How are you doing? Okay? And how's Dagger's Rebellion?

Adrian could become distracted easily, and clearly his questions directed towards Ex were what he was thinking about. Shazaam and the other might as well have been shrubbery. Of course, the bay could just as easily be re-distracted.

He was truly his own horse, that is never to be doubted.

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[> .sanity is the madness preferred by the majority. -- .the.sandman., 03:30:37 12/07/03 Sun [1]

.the moonless night diluted any clear view that he may have had on this newcomer, but his iniquitous voice alone was enough to disclose the fact that he was not of this side.pillars shift slightly as a forward motion was made.not quite at step, more of a placard symblozing that he was not one to back down.

.he knew not to whom he spoke, and frankly could care less.there was a dense shroud about this one, one of abhoration.

"I drop only what is a burden to me, and who am I to believe that you are any sort of a cumber?"

.being more of a test than a challenge, the words were smoothly poured from an emotionless mug.he wasn't self-righteous, arrogant, or anything of the sort.he simply knew the facts and used them to his advantage.from his vantage point, this one was hippocratic to speak of self-righteousness.

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