|
|
Post by Santiago on Aug 9, 2006 18:31:02 GMT -5
Frankie was a born leader. She knew that one day, even if it wasn't now, she would be queen. She would fight for that position if she had to. Her mother and grandmother were both queen's before her, and she wouldn't break that chain, not her. She slowly walked into the terratory. Looking around, she didn't see many stallions, but quite a few mares. She just shrugged and walked herself over to a shady tree near a shiny brooke. She stayed there for a while, resting her eyes, then walked around a bit more. She took a drink from the brooke and wondered where all the stallions were. She didn't want a light, nor a dark. She would refuse to go with either. She was a true neutral, and that's all she would be, all her life.
|
|
|
|
Post by r.andom on Aug 9, 2006 18:46:12 GMT -5
Alone, he stood, all-powerful, malicious, looking upon her with no smile and no snort of welcome – he was deadpan, unreadable, free of emotions as he stared her down with eyes glinting beetle-black in the light. She was new, she was…untamed, yet, and, oh, she seemed arrogant – just like him. But no, my spider-stallion cared not for her own arrogance but for his owning of her, for he was cut to the shape of a rogue, wild and free, to be what the wild had deemed him to be.
Snake-like, he moved, gliding across sands that skittered at his hooves, and, as he reached her, he smirked, and nipped her rump, pressing firmer, closer to her as he felt she was with child and snaked his head out to whisper in her ear ”Why, hello, poppet…And just who are you?” [/]and such malice is in his words that it is unavoidable.Come, Poppet. Don't be a f r a i d.
|
|
|
|
Post by Santiago on Aug 10, 2006 14:07:37 GMT -5
Frankie was startled by the appearance of a creepy dark voice. She jumped and turned to see the bay stallion. She was frightened and tried to speak, but no words escaped her maw. The paint didn't really know if this king was a dark or neutral, but she spoke to him, in startled words.
I am... Frankie. A Neutral.
She was a bit scared and backed away, not liking this stallion. She was very picky and she didn't want to go with him.
|
|
|
|
Post by r.andom on Aug 10, 2006 14:21:35 GMT -5
He casts a lethargic snort in her direction, sensing the slight fear that she emits for him and letting that malicious leer-smirk cross his lips again, although it is fleeting and beguiling and uncommon. He sees her lower her head, embarrassed at being confronted as lying for she must have thought that he was simply a dumb stallion without a brain, for he was indeed without a heart that fell for much. As she speaks that simper once again crosses his muzzle although he knows it is, once again, brief and only a glimpse, and his hard, cold eyes bore into her own.
”Frankie” he speaks smoothly, silkily, in reply to her own answer. Once again he snorts and as she asks him her own question he thinks about it for a while, before replying ”I am Al-Ahmar, or Ahmar of Silver Creek.” Come, Poppet. Don't be a f r a i d.
|
|
|
|
Post by Santiago on Aug 10, 2006 14:24:36 GMT -5
Frankie took a big breath then a big gulp. She couldn't trust this stallion, and until he proved that she could, maybe, just maybe she'd concider going with him. First, she would here what he had to offer. She said nothing, but looking deeply into the orbs of the stallion in front of her, looking for any signs of threat.
|
|
|
|
Post by r.andom on Aug 10, 2006 14:34:27 GMT -5
He was instinctive and reflexive, dark, foreboding and cat-like in his way - he slipped about her as a mere shadow, spun by dreams that had been broken and cracked, created by the dust and the hatred and the malevolence that every land contained, and that was him - he had little time for little else. And he was fear; fear itself - cold and dramatic and slithering and dark, such pure, pure, catastrophic darkness, and even this did not describe him, did not describe the hatred and the pain and the cruelty of him that could never be described in words, did not describe him in even a meagre way. Ahmar was Ahmar, and there was no other way of explaining it.
"Why so quiet, poppet?"Come, Poppet. Don't be a f r a i d.
|
|
|
|
Post by Santiago on Aug 10, 2006 16:20:54 GMT -5
Frankie thought for a moment. Suddenly, her brows turned to anger and a threat. She didn't want him. She wouldn't let him take her.
You stay away!
She snarled, backing away with fire in her eyes. She did not like this. She would not go with him, even if her life depended on it.
|
|
|
|
Post by r.andom on Aug 10, 2006 17:37:13 GMT -5
Al-Ahmar, snorted before a low rumbling sound came from his maw. Laughing, he smirked before stepping closer to the wrentch. "Come, on now; No need to be afraid." lyrics coming just above a whisper before he 2-beated around the wrentch. Auds, forward he picked up a 3-beated rythem to his next victium.Come, Poppet. Don't be a f r a i d. ooc ll No one, loves him. -cries-
|
|
|
|
Post by Santiago on Aug 10, 2006 17:43:02 GMT -5
I'm not afraid of you.
She snarled at him, showing more of a dark side than of light. Yet, she still backed away. She didn't want anything to do with this one. She snapped the air as a threat to stay away. |
|
|
|
Post by r.andom on Aug 10, 2006 17:49:34 GMT -5
ooc ll he left.
|
|
|
|
Post by Santiago on Aug 10, 2006 17:49:51 GMT -5
[oooook]
|
|
