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Post by phoenix on Feb 6, 2006 16:02:15 GMT -5
A small shriek echoed across the shallow waters of the oasis. At a first glance you would have thought that the shriek was just the wind. But if you looked harder you could see a muscular colt resting. His midnight black pelt had matched his mother who had long since abbandoned him, the only thing that showed who his father was were one chestnut sock. He was a handsome young fellow but blanketed with sorrow and sadness. He was a dark but he needed a mother never the less. He let out another plea and waited for an answer......
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Alto
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Post by Alto on Feb 6, 2006 17:54:35 GMT -5
Anubi, the Light faen, was apon the terras at this time. She heard the Dark Colt's call. Not even thinking about his Allience, she raced towards the foal's cries. She spotted him, and nickered to him, letting him know she was there, so not to scare him. She presented a warm smile, worry in her orbs. She hoped he was alright. "Hello little one. I am Anubi. Are you alright?" She knew to not ask why he was here all alone without his mother, at such a young age. This was, of course, the Orphan Shallows.
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Post by phoenix on Feb 6, 2006 18:28:04 GMT -5
Samurai blinked. He didn't know such kindness. He couldn't see the mare at the moment but he could hear her. He nickered back at her. He stood up, his muscels were still sore but he ignored the pain. He wobbled a little but regained his strength. He called through the mist, "I am.....alright I guess....."
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Alto
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Post by Alto on Feb 6, 2006 18:56:55 GMT -5
She walked into sight, her eyes gazing apon his small form. Surley, he was quite large for his age, but her was still a small foal. 'I am glad to know you're alright.
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Post by \\Leviathan// on Feb 7, 2006 20:41:34 GMT -5
A glance was all it took for his voids to register that something was not all right in this picture. Indeed, the foal was Dark but the faen was a Light. But he said nothing, and made no sound to announce his presence. The only sound that escaped him was the quiet expanding and contracting of his cage with each new taste of oxygen, and the slow dripping of salt water onto the ground. He had not yet fully dried from his travels, and he always would reek of the sea.
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Alto
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Post by Alto on Feb 8, 2006 19:44:31 GMT -5
Her auds circulated to his direction, a soft sound sparking her interest. But she spotted nothing, and turned back to the young foal. She wished him not to be in danger.
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Post by \\Leviathan// on Feb 8, 2006 21:05:56 GMT -5
Not satisfied by her reaction, he allowed a deep grunt to pass his seldom-used vocals. To accompany his utterance, he scattered a few red-gold leaves with a foredagger, their rustle sounding their lack of moisture and signalling his distance from the sea. But it's call was not strong yet, he was still new in these lands and had time to find something to keep him here, if ever that would happen.
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Alto
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Post by Alto on Feb 9, 2006 21:10:16 GMT -5
Anubi turned on the spot. She searched, spotting the Neutral. What be thy intentions, stallion? By his actions, he probably was not as friendly as she would think.
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Post by \\Leviathan// on Feb 10, 2006 16:59:39 GMT -5
He hesitated to grace this unknown entity with his speech, for he seldom spoke lest it be necessary. Explanations, however, were more or less a requirement. Anyhow, the faen did not seem to hold him in high regard, despite his regal stature. His chords trembled to life and his clear, true voice broke through the gruffness in his passages brought on by his exposure to salt.
Intentions indeed, I wish I had such. I came hither on a whim, Did thou do as much?
He smirked, awaiting her reaction. It was not often that others encountered ones such as he that spoke carefully, with premeditation. He felt restless at having admitted to having no intentions, for he suddenly felt like he had no direction. He would need to find occupation soon, or his ability to resist the pull of the salted cristalline would be compromised and diminished.
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Alto
Administrator
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Post by Alto on Feb 10, 2006 22:41:39 GMT -5
She did not reply to him. She stood in front of the black foal. Who knew what this stallion was planning on doing?
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Post by \\Leviathan// on Feb 12, 2006 15:02:54 GMT -5
He sighed anew, disappointed. No civilized exchange would occur here. It was with melancholy that his song formed, requiring no thought but only a mirror to hold up to his feeling, to reflect the pain caused by his curse and his lifestyle...
I'll take a hint, Perhaps I should go. I am not so sinister But you'll never know.
Indeed I am different, And so I must fly. Depart from this region, An outcast am I.
As much as is hurts To be judged e'er so soon, I know that the sea Will rebuild me in it's womb.
And renewed shall I Step onto some land. Greeting inhabitants, But ne'er forming a band.
With this he had already turned away, the angry fists of muscle moving fluidly beneath his auburn pelt. Like liquid darkness his tresses fell to hide his expression, veiling his soul from the world.
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Alto
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Post by Alto on Feb 12, 2006 22:17:17 GMT -5
She watched him turn away, her auds still pinned. But somewhere deep inside, the neutralling (word?) femora felt somewhat bad for him...
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Post by \\Leviathan// on Feb 13, 2006 20:10:48 GMT -5
With a toss of his mighty cranium he rid himself of the bitter thoughts as one often did to rid oneself of flies, knowing that no matter how you fought the flies would always return. So it was with bitterness and melancholy, but he laid them aside for the moment, setting his blackened flints to the granules and setting off at an easy ground-covering lope, relishing how quickly his pillars regained their sense of land. Yes, he would distance himself from the hostile faen and the dark colt. Forget them the way he'd forgotten many of those he'd encountered... few left an impression on his travel-weary mind. He was sick of moving on, mainly because he knew he'd never stop. He'd never find anywhere worth staying, no one to make him stay...
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Alto
Administrator
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Post by Alto on Feb 14, 2006 16:28:23 GMT -5
She watched him go, then turned to the black foal. So, what is your name, young one?
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Post by \\Leviathan// on Feb 26, 2006 16:45:19 GMT -5
He looked back, noticing the foal's slowness to respond. He felt compelled to express how her hasty judgement had wounded his pride, but he said nothing. Let her ignore him. He could just watch and wait. But he wanted to be noticed. He was not used to being ignored.
Again he brushed bitterness and melancholy aside, having to do no such thing with actual flies since the saline odour of his pelt kept them at bay. The metaphorical flies were rather annoying though.
He took a mouthful of the harsh desert grass, grinding it thoughtfully between his tombstone enamels.
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