VoyForums
[ Show ]
Support VoyForums
[ Shrink ]
VoyForums Announcement: Programming and providing support for this service has been a labor of love since 1997. We are one of the few services online who values our users' privacy, and have never sold your information. We have even fought hard to defend your privacy in legal cases; however, we've done it with almost no financial support -- paying out of pocket to continue providing the service. Due to the issues imposed on us by advertisers, we also stopped hosting most ads on the forums many years ago. We hope you appreciate our efforts.

Show your support by donating any amount. (Note: We are still technically a for-profit company, so your contribution is not tax-deductible.) PayPal Acct: Feedback:

Donate to VoyForums (PayPal):

[ Login ] [ Main index ] [ Post a new message ] [ Search | Check update time | Archives: [1], 2, 3 ]

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Date Posted: 13:16:26 05/21/01 Mon
Author: Witraz
Author Host/IP: 24.4.252.42
Subject: *Emotional wires crossed.*
In reply to: Silence of Serenity 's message, "~*The siren enters*~" on 22:55:34 05/20/01 Sun

*The wires of his inner workings crossed by the frustration many young stallions face in their early years, the dark-coated amateur stud leaves the bit of space where he battled for the chestnut. His color is a strange one, being unmarred by white in any form. He is dark, but not bay, nor black, nor grey. His coat is a dark one with a greyenne, misty kind of lacing. Such a puzzling attribute, as if forever the full moon shone on his back. His father was a fine example of an ill-known, coarse, warmblooded breed who danced through the eloquent patterns of dressage before his escape, commencing in the finding of a bay Arabian mare. But never in the course of her bloodlines had one of the bay mare's ancestors set foot to any of those countries who today mangle the ancient breed for purposes of "halter." He does not know the unspeakable crimes commited by those places, only that the more domestic creatures who title themselves Arabians are, although somewhat removed, of his own blood. He knows that back and back and back, in the lives of his ancestors and the ancestors of the domestic Arabians, were five mares.*
*He knows their names, the meanings of their names, the significance of their names, their children, their origin...His mother took such pains to teach him. She taught him the significance of song. Endless, facinating tales of the bravest war mares and their daughters made him as close to a professor of his history as a horse may come. He knows every theory of the five mares; the one with kohl lining her beautiful eyes, the one with the high-set tail that caught up the cloak cast by her rider, the one with the darkest color of hide, the one with the black birth mark on her sleek neck, and the one with the particularly animated gaits. Witraz knows that in the genes of any mare he might think to pursue are those mares, and countless other generations of brave females.*
*The bitter flame in the young stallion eases as he walks, his elegant tail brushing gently against his slightly angled hocks. His natural desire is for a mare to dominate him - it is only how his equine mind is capable of working. He is young, and still the changing levels of hormones in his blood are startling for his body, and stimulate an over-reaction. His large, elegant ears turn slowly, his heavily arched neck holding high his naturally crafted head of stained woodwork. He does not see the near-ebon mare until he nearly encroaches on her personal space. His large, fine nostrils flare as he backs up sharply, pricking his ears, having let her startle him while he traveled in his naturally floating gaits, a journey to outer space. It was not the image of the mare, but her whistle, that brought him to a halt. He quickly glances across the mare. Her line seems to have yet be marred by the hand of a man who calls for function to be disregaurded, and form take center stage. He watches distractedly as her mane pulls away from a properly built neck. This mare traces to the Five, Koheila, Obeyah, Dahmeh, Shuwaimeh and Saqlawieh. He feels a slight surge of aggression building back within him. There is no previous experience to give him a clue to her response, so he steps back, the fine mane that lines his neck bristling.*

((I appologize for the lack of quality following the little history lesson.))

[ Next Thread | Previous Thread | Next Message | Previous Message ]

Replies:

  • (NT) -- Closing Font, 13:19:22 05/21/01 Mon
    Forum timezone: GMT-8
    VF Version: 3.00b, ConfDB:
    Before posting please read our privacy policy.
    VoyForums(tm) is a Free Service from Voyager Info-Systems.
    Copyright © 1998-2019 Voyager Info-Systems. All Rights Reserved.