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Date Posted: 04:13:29 05/01/01 Tue
Author: ^Epitome^
Subject: .chilled.spines.


^lips flop, flints swivel. marbled tears are cast generously 'pon the herds that roam below. she chooses to linger within' her dearly beloved shadows, although they have dubbed her a part of the mare band. with a dignified snort, she turns to the huddle of females, a single ashen nail thrown down. this single antic is caused between a mixture of irritation and an attempt to rid herself of a pest, whether the pest be real or simply in her mind. A hind traveler is cocked in odd contentment, weight pressed peacefully 'gainst the cool granite of her haven's walls. nostrils dilate and contract evenly, head bobbing as she dozes then returns to reality...dozes then returns to reality. suddenly, optics are open, muscles tense, ears consistantly forth and back, forth and back, as if a soldier on guard. with a grunt, eyes narrow, gaze cast upon the territories and bands below. with a soft snarl, hued pelt quivers under the constant touch of the winds, but she demands herself, as if a scolding mother, to doze again. Only ears are left on alert, and an occasional sweep of gaze. but for now she rests.^



^Epitome^
why they call it falling?

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