| Subject: ••••::. ..The mare watches in silent spectation of the steed whom she had met with so long ago.. .::•••• |
Author:
Never The Less
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Date Posted: 10:06:51 04/11/01 Wed
Author Host/IP: NoHost/24.66.94.142
In reply to:
Playing With Fire ~Dont play with fire,You might get burned~
's message, "Never The Less??????????????" on 17:12:35 04/05/01 Thu
*Her heart pounds thickly within her chest at the sight of the steed whom she had befriended so long ago, only a slight remnance of his existence lingering within her mind, pressed up against the base in a shackle of iron chain, the rusted links cold against it, its hot, persuant breath unable, even, to cast away the shiver, the energy in which it bides, to destroy the loneliness in which she was a prisoner, wandering, without map nor guide, the one who was soon to be a mare, lost within her own circumstances, the need which rose in jets of flame for the accompaniment of another, one who might take her as his, to love her, as a friend, for now... Her hooves tread the earth beneath her, patterned, pressed freshly with the remenants of one thousand hooves, the grasses bent, distorted, though even in their state, their stalks rising to grasp and furl about her cannon, to wind about the muscled limb and creep upward to the base of her chest, the bony fingers of its worth unable to grasp the tufts of fur which lined it, jutting from the contours and the beveled creases.....* Fire..? *Her voice resounds plainly, though held beneath the weight of the initial tones, drained to a mere whisper as the strains, the portions of emmitions dwindle within the powerful, curling rush of the winds....* It's been a while.. I would have thought that you might have forgotten me...-- Thank you for keeping a place for me in your mind......... *An airy emotion creeps up the slope of her parched lips, its materializing curiosity causing the corners, the creases to draw backward, to furl in a pleasant look of contentment, her coarse, protrudant features shifting slightly to reach even the hand of the smile which swept them, their rough edges hardly hoping to match brilliance of it, of one which they could never compare to... She lifts her muzzle gently forth, breaking through the hounding wind of wind which developes about her, pressing flat even the grasses which had been so long in loving contact of her ankle, her knee, the forces furious at her succeedant attempt to disrupt their might.. She holds her muzzle to his for a single moment, breathing in deep harmony with his own sheltered breaths, for a moment, a moment which might have seemed a century, until such time as she retreats backward, her sweat-lathered neck held taut in strain as she presses her chin back against it......*
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