| Subject: ...<><><> Entrance of a dark soul <><><>... |
Author:
Darq Dragon
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Date Posted: 17:55:46 05/14/01 Mon
Author Host/IP: tcache-wg01.proxy.aol.com/205.188.196.113
^Pounding of sturdy hooves against worn, used ground is heard, beating out a rhythm, a powerful beat, ringing out into the late morning. Enter, a steed, with a pelt of ebony silk, pulled taught over thick, masculine muscles. Harsh rays of brilliant sunshine pound against the dark obsidian, uplifting the shine of such a pelt. Thick, long legs tear at the ground, powerful muscles pulling taught and relaxing, forming movement, drawing the steed nearer to the meadow, the empty sounds of nothingness enchanting him nearer. Head raised, he gallops, thick trendils of forelock spilling across deep orbs, oculars filled with mystery and intrigue, oculars narrowed into a dull glare, washing about the empty meadow in mock interest. Dial lifts, mane spilling back against obvious withers, tickling at the soft skin of the steed's thick neck. Lobes are lifted, twisting, contorting, searching for signs of amusement. Nares flare, drawing each scent to the soft palate beneath, to be dissolved and digested, to place meaning and understanding to each. Tail is flicked in agitation, the trendils spilling against heavily muscled hindquarters, the very essence that propelled him into the empty meadow. Heavy snort is emitted at the realization of being alone. The noise rings upon the air as it resonates about the empty field. The steed slows from his mad gallop, sides heaving, drawing in the precious gift of oxygen, sending crimson blood to his limbs, keeping him in movement, keeping muscles healthy. Large, dark orbs scan the seemingly empty land, as muscles begin tiring, slowing the steed to a smooth canter. Long limbs eat at the ground, leaving behind merely gentle imprints, small reminders that he had passed such land. Lobes are lifted, drawing in each sound about him, searching frantically for something to end his madness, to end the loneliness. Once more, a heavy snort is emitted, the sound hanging upon the air a moment, before being whisked away by the breeze. Sides heave with heavy breathing, lips parted, the soft air brushing over his teeth and tongue, to be drawn into his masculine lungs. Nares flare, catching each scent, and examining it to it's full extent. Lobes lift, tips pointing towards the Heavens, not bowing, as most should, yet praying, as small angels would. Oculars follow the example set by his ears, raising to meet the crystal blue sky, the soft white wisps that washed against the blue backdrop seeming to be the barriers, the moat, that protected the Heavens from such hellions, such evil beasts. Was that what he was? Deep, icy snort escapes his nares, the nostrils no longer flaring, having assumed that he was alone, no companion, no other souls occupying the meadow, the rolling hills, the foamy beaches, the dark forests. It was all so interesting, yet so dull, so used, nothing new roamed the silent lands, the rich utopia provided for equine exsistance. As lobes lower, finally bowing from the Heavens, oculars are ripped from the sea above, sliding across the empty meadow, taking in the flora, the rich greenery that bent at his will, pushed back and bowed before him, prayed for his very form to come and caress them as he would. Hooves pounded along the grass, the hard packed earth, the ground that got no recognition, jus layed there as an emerald carpet, bending it's back for any who willed it, any who wished to leave their mark, as the steed did with beating hooves. Nares being flaring once more, pulling in the thick air, grasping the invisible life provding winds, pushing it to his lungs, to continue to carry his form. Muscles begin to ache as he canters, forcing his legs to become stiff, slowing his motion, protesting as he pushes on. Lobes lay back to his skull, the life being ripped from his very soul as muscles grow weak, forcing him to slow to a trot, the gait bouncy, yet smooth in an odd way, the jolts of landing each strong hoof awakeneing his sense once more, tossing thick trendils of ebony mane about his strong neck, tail lashing about his hocks as though in anger. Orbs snap in mock interest to anything moveing about him, the soft wind playing with the branches of trees, small bugs jumping from various blades of grass, birds swooping around the rich sapphire sky... it was all so filled with life, yet he was still alone...^
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