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Date Posted: 22:46:45 01/11/03 Sat
Author: [ v a l i e n t e ]
Subject: [ all that is gold does not glitter ]
In reply to: War 's message, "Law is Silent..." on 19:17:20 01/11/03 Sat

the darkness began its cursory reign long ago, into the forgotten days of the past when all that was known was the heat of flame and coolness of shade. the night filtered its ebony fingers, curling them within the locks of the unwary and tugging upon the wrists of the fearsome, beckoning to the members of the light as the fingers of death must do to the dying and diseased. the step, the final broach between the white and black into a world of dull gray, is difficult to take, forsaking all that you have known in favor of all that can be promised by both your own demons and the demons of the world at large. the rocks of the mountainsides seem to loom in the ivory blackness, growing ever larger in the face of both hell and shadow. the moon no longer glows upon her silver path, for that has long been left behind, behind the colorless and tangled arms of the trees that chase my steps

i refuse to halt upon this path that can only lead me forward, my steps well-placed even in the obscuring darkness, my own eyes seeking and yet not finding that which i follow. perhaps it is the spot of light before me, glowing ever so dimly in the distance, that i follow, for i cannot be said to follow any specified pathway through this ragged domain. the trees are close, compromising my lungs and the intake of each gasping breath, they are ancient in a domain that they each own...i am the intruder, and though i know i should fear their souls, souls which feed upon the worrisome, i have no fear, my gaze is strong and my steps are calculated. in the midnight's breeze the clouds begin to lift, as as they do so so do they free my entangled heart, locked within a depth of derision and refusal. my body is riddled with racking hopelessness, my mind spinning with the accumulated knowledge of my travels

into the darkness the crimson female steps, violent and volatile, her clear eyes shining a clear flame in the shadow of the evening. the stars still shine overhead, above the curling and obscuring arms of the trees, dancing across the skies in a practiced gait that still she knows continues. silent, the moon's rays break through the dark foliage and lighten the elegantly sculpted cranium of the mare, throwing her into the spotlight in a world utterly consumed within the maw of shadow. her gaze shifts, into the distance there exist the cavorting forms of others, perhaps members of her geneology, perhaps demons within the shadows. either way, a single word pervades the confines of her mind and with it flashing before her she takes a step towards the frames, parting the foliage with her gait and allowing the soil to silence her steps. the shrill keen of the owls are the only sounds to sharpen the acoustic nerves now ringing with anticipation, my optic nerves dancing as the forms begin to clear, to focus, to color. the shades

and to them i come, an object of pure fury and compulsion, a heart consisting of marbled rock and rock alone. cold blood flows within my gaping veins, filtering throughout my body in allowance of the distance i have covered to become what i am called. night's cloak yet hides my flaming pelt from their questioning eyes, a foreleg lifted as if i have halted midstride...and indeed i have, the noble lift and curve of my upper body belying the lineage that both precedes and becomes me. i have seen the opposing side of the moon, traversed long there and become one with the darkness. i am hardened to the creatures, refusing both the light and the emotion of hatred. my upper lip curls, traversing the lithe plane of my face, a practiced gesture of non-equine origin that serves only to contort my features into a grotesque mask of death. my limbs still once more, my tresses lifted by the elegant digits of the moon's breeze and lain in cobwebbed patterns upon the lithe extension of my neck. i am still, patient, and derisively bristling with emotionless hatred. not a creature to be trifled with, my snarling vice is death...not death of myself, but the drawing of blood from others

her head lifted, a cursory gesture in the evening's waning tide, and turned haphazardly to intake the stallion standing at her side attempting to claim her with the moronic gesture of the uninhibitedly assinine. her upper lip lifted as if controlling itself and her balked, directing her weight towards her hindlimsb so that she might raise her fores minutely, ducking her head with her teeth bared in a cruel snarl. her eye flared, a raging crimson in the dim light, and her auditives fell back towards the nape of her neck as she slammed earthward once more...had she been a canine no doubt the mane of her neck would be bristling in utter hatred and anger. as it were she readied herself, dancing upon her limbs as any prime ballerina would upon a stage, wheeling herself away with no more than a darting snarl towards the male. she turned once more then, yards away from him, and paused motionless, her eyes narrowed and her lip curled, her entire body poised for battle. there would be no claiming, she was no one's broodmare or adoring fan...her obsidian locks curled about the line of her neck as she hissed derisively, allowing the stallion a chance to step away from her, or meet her raging wrath

[ v a l i e n t e ]
you chose the wrong mare

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Replies:

.how amusing. -- relic, 12:47:35 01/12/03 Sun
.how amusing. -- relic, 12:48:05 01/12/03 Sun