Post by - Spirit of the Wind - on Jul 5, 2006 10:39:26 GMT -5
Cautiously landed one inky dagger in the moist underground of the forest trodden by many. From afar, a pair of unfathomable liqiud pools observed the timid progress of a slight belle, her coat painted mocha, her thorns tipped ebony. Finely carved crown was held with all the signs of an exotic ancestery, and the silken whipcords were held with an excruciating perfection, unbeknownst the the nymph, who was the topic of such thoughts. Her own inky globes roved the dense bushes around her, wide to the point of ivory gleaming around the dark irises. Her step was slow and irregular, though not a limp showed in her stride, nor a fault in her figure.
Breezing 'cross the sun-kissed lands
A butterfly was seen to be tossed upon teasing breezes, the same which ruffled fuzzy gray fur only metres away, and toyed with the lengthy plume, whipping it cruelly against the sleek bodice which flinched with each contact. Another step forward, the slim stem seemingly unaffected by the tempramental zyphrs. Deep globes peered out out the shadow-dappled surroundings, the silvered trunks marks of an Australian forest, as was the rich scent of eucalpyt. Another timid step, and now the silken plume flicked of its own accord, not stirred by the breeze
Comes the Spirit of the Wind
Her intuitive senses told her that the clearing she sought was not far away, but her sensative ebon nares told her it was well occupied. But then, pointed out her nastily common-sensical mind, they would be less likely to notice such a dim shadow of an equine, especially if there were to be exotic sun-kissed belles, or striking ebon, or even radiant ivory. With a deep breath, charcoal daggers finally strode with a purpose, other than the irregular rhythm which had done naught but grow as the cocoa-touched belle neared the vicinity of the Claiming ground. As the light pounding ceased, ebonite liquid pools peered out of a finely carved head, raised high despite her worries, as the belle melted in amongst the shadows and waited to see if she would be noticed amongst the exuberant belles
ooc - sorry it took so long
Breezing 'cross the sun-kissed lands
A butterfly was seen to be tossed upon teasing breezes, the same which ruffled fuzzy gray fur only metres away, and toyed with the lengthy plume, whipping it cruelly against the sleek bodice which flinched with each contact. Another step forward, the slim stem seemingly unaffected by the tempramental zyphrs. Deep globes peered out out the shadow-dappled surroundings, the silvered trunks marks of an Australian forest, as was the rich scent of eucalpyt. Another timid step, and now the silken plume flicked of its own accord, not stirred by the breeze
Comes the Spirit of the Wind
Her intuitive senses told her that the clearing she sought was not far away, but her sensative ebon nares told her it was well occupied. But then, pointed out her nastily common-sensical mind, they would be less likely to notice such a dim shadow of an equine, especially if there were to be exotic sun-kissed belles, or striking ebon, or even radiant ivory. With a deep breath, charcoal daggers finally strode with a purpose, other than the irregular rhythm which had done naught but grow as the cocoa-touched belle neared the vicinity of the Claiming ground. As the light pounding ceased, ebonite liquid pools peered out of a finely carved head, raised high despite her worries, as the belle melted in amongst the shadows and waited to see if she would be noticed amongst the exuberant belles
ooc - sorry it took so long
