| Subject: †•:::. Her hesitant lobes spin warily atop her poll .:::•† |
Author:
White Christmas
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Date Posted: 12:59:35 04/16/01 Mon
Author Host/IP: px3nr.wp.shawcable.net/24.66.94.142
In reply to:
Vela
's message, "*One solitary ear pivots atop her russet skull...*" on 08:07:24 04/16/01 Mon
font color="yellow">*Her lobe spins in solitary wariness, shifting, curling, the mottled locks which spin about its coupled base threading off in fine strands, slithering down the flat of her cheek as they break from the vessel of which they were one, the vast grouping of the fruit of the mane, torn apart, torn, ripped, destroyed, as her heart had been......... Her vision traces him.. This solitary steed, his muscles puffed, taut, his chest pressed out from his figure in a show of strength and worthiness, a show of which she cared no part of, even the show of his sympathatic love, a waste, a fail, his futile attempts nothing to her, nothing, nothing..... He had cast her out of the land that he had invited to become her home.. Why, now, should she believe him...? Why should she once more fall into the binding contract which would leave her to lone once more, to roam the edge of the steed's lands, hoping, praying, wondering if his mind would find even a thought to her, if he might, just once, seek out the one that he had promised so falsely, breathing in constant exhale the empty words that bore a shell as thick as his heart to her, denying the falseties which lay beneath the skin, which spun about in mock of what had been, of how she had been mislead, mislead by one who had claimed to 'love' her.......... Her shoulders grow taut with emotions that toss her to the edge of tranquillity, emotions that grasp the lobe of her protrudant auricle, snapping it backward to whisper mingled words of resentment, of anger, of pain, of mistrust, the clips of the emmitions splaying about in writhing motions, bursting through her throbbing mind and into the pitt depths of her heart... She snorts gently.. Coldy, yet gently, a frosted stream of ivory fog twisting, pulsing, puffing from each nasal in an endless stream, dwindling away only as the winds snap forth in screaming protest, snapping the strands from the atmosphere in which they had settled, denying their presence, defying their cleverness in its child-like antics..... Her hock quivers with desperate flee, the pumped sensation brimming within her as she stumbles backward rootlessly, her mind reeling, her heart thumping wildly, crashing against her chest in powerful torrents, one thought streaming through her, the only thought that remains level amidst the quarreled quake......... She had to get away.......*
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