Date Posted:18:12:35 12/14/03 Sun Author: S w e e t M y s t e r y Subject: A M y s t e r y O f U n t o l d S w e e t n e s s< In reply to:
Impurity
's message, "Different" on 14:21:33 12/14/03 Sun
S w e e t M y s t e r y
Dappled arabian mare senses the young one. Trotting over, she inhales his scent. An odd odor mingled with the warm scents of his body. Drawing her skull in close to her physique, she guided herself over. Standing before him, his red veined orbs make his blindness apparent. Not making a noise, but knowing he could sense her, she dips her head. circling him slowly, she speaks, a thing she does not do often. Young one, what is your calling?
Not making a point of his eyes, for perhaps he thought it as a curse. Or perhaps, a gift...
