nobody is ready for /this/

[{Nevvy}]

Earthen daggers trampled the land that once was. Brisk air brushed past, although it was not felt. Chocolate canvas glistened with the dew that landed upon the back. Brush decorated the banner and tassels, entwining it in its own hurtful fashion. Fiery eyes caught every little sight, circling harks caught every sound as the rhythmic beats came to a sudden stop.

The sun overhead burned rays of angelic hues down across the land, although thunderheads closing in quickly was going to take that away. A multitude of birds jigged to the music they created, so easily entertained they were. Oh look, something shiny, and they would be once again become entertained. That’s why they raise so early in the morning, because the dew excites them. Stupid foolish birds. They may get the worm but then the hawk get them. Circle of life. Learn it, live it, get over it.

The trees swung to and fro, although the only actions caught were the raising and falling of the greenery that kept such trees living. They were the only living creations worth seeing sometimes, because their beauty was captivating. So many different shades, so many different kinds, how could anyone not like slumbering under one, letting their aromas guide the dreams that tell one of the future, the past, and the present. Trees have been around forever, and they know. They always do. Listening to them is like listening to one’s own personal God. They are there to lead the way.

Emitting a snort, she watched as the smoke rose and then blended in with the ashen clouds. The color of sickness, grumpiness, and downright bitchiness. No, bitchiness is the color of red. Her bad. Clefts left the ground once again, leaving a piece of history behind. Everything passed by slowly, all the scents of what once was and what it has left to be enthralled her nostrils. Turn one way, and the story of star-crossed lovers was told. The other, and a brutal fight of princes over one gal would get one’s heartbeat racing and ready to join a side. If one thought really hard, they may be able to picture it. A shadowed stud, no pupils, just flames licking up as he won’t for the jugular of the other, a Palomino young’un turning sharply to stem the blow and keep his life just for a moment longer. Between them, a horrified flicka, gray. Neutral territory.

Auditories listened, the whisperings of gossip told her what she needed to know. Bitches teased here. Nightmares laid in stealth, just waiting. Lights danced upon, bringing the halos that one could see from the sun as they shined down and brought the warmth that was once again captured when the ice cold black hole entered, no beating, just, well let’s call it the axe-murderer of the party. Some think they are, others just like to be a nuisance. Neutrals, well, they stayed back and let the others kill each other. One day they will rule because of their active inactivity in childishness.

Tiara dipped toward the ground, orbs showing that the grass, well, it was not that good as where she came from. Trampled, ripped, and torn apart. One could say it was pretty much decimated in an epidemic of lost and found once again. Those that believe they need a home, a piece of shelter where the big bad stallion would keep out all the dramas of the world. She, she was just passing through on her way to the ends of the Earth, and maybe there, she will find what she is looking for. Carmenta observed, dished mask putting on more of a bored look, gazing behind each branch and root for danger that may be lurking. Who knows, maybe some type of adventure and chaos would do her some good. Probably not, though.

[Demmy]

spring rain. it falls in sheets, thin drops, bent on seeking every crack and crevice, turning the dry earth below into a soupy muck. budding leaves fight the torrent, a cool wind having picked up along with the rainfall, violently shaking the deadened branches. a few organisms of said vegetation loses their fight, pressed down by hardened precipitation, down down down, crushed into their watery grave. the once sun-warmed earth joins in, fighting the rain tooth and nail. thus a thick fog is brought forth, clinging to the terrain, unwilling to rise, a child at it's mother's breast.

it is upon this scene the grulla brute strides, easily picking his way through the silent war waged about him. nothing stirs, save for the gathering of darkness, a pulsing shadow of the darkest of darks, growing as more phantoms join it. a reaching, grasping chill stretches itself out, a proverbial rolling front of cold, a bank of fog blowing in. it suffocates, a murderous hand reaching out to grasp every living thing's lungs and squeeze every last bit of air and life out of it. stop the blood flow, the heart beat? silenced. muscles contract, their last movement. Taboo has arrived. light hued flints do not slip, each step sure and confident. Taboo is a cocky bastard, it's true. stride is long and sure; musculature ripples with each stride, flowing easily, like liquid, over firm, correct conformation. grulla pelt is patchy, trying desperately to rid itself of the itchy, dead, winter coat, giving the brute's coat a mottled appearance. it blends and mixes, becoming one with its brethren - the shadows. dual sentries, forever on guard, snatch themselves forth, carefully seeking out any sign of movement, for long had it been since he had conversed with another. briefly, he pauses, nuchal ligament pulled tight, sending skull to once again become the zenith. amber visionaries flick here and there, binocular to monocular. of course, being of the equine species, his eyesight wasn't all that great, in comparison to one's other senses. thus, said senses are employed, red-lined nostrils flaring in sweet anticipation. the rain has completed it's downpour, and now the air is deadened, nary a scent of another living thing tainting it's heavy stillness.

white-licked appendages stride forth, cranium flipping left then right before lowering itself, hung lightly between shoulder blades, muzzle pressed close to the dusted earth below. he had never been here before and ribcage expands, then contracts, a shuddering sigh pressed forth from the mutt stallion's lungs. carbon dioxide is gladly exchanged for life-supporting oxygen, the scent of his sodden carcass joining the gas to infiltrate the left and right lobes. psyche turns itself over and over, never alighting on any one particular subject. indeed. boredom was a much deadlier murderess than curiosity ...

there. ahead flashes another's frame. lithe in figure easily discernible as female, if the scent upon the breeze were not proof enough. it was true. nightmares lurked in the shadows of the traveler's field. and this brute? your worst nightmare. but we shall save that story for another time. time to play. if Taboo owned a pair of knuckles he would be cracking them against each other, deft paces pulling him forth, a stalking, sinister movement. nares flare in agitation, carbon expelled, and a low snort is thrown forth. greeting ... not really. warning is more like it. he knew not the alignment of the fae before him, but a practiced gaze traces her contours, features masked in a stony carving, eyes aflame with interest. lovely day, is it? his tone is slightly mocking, twisted upwards into a question, adding deft sarcasm to his tone for at the moment he slogged through a particularly soupy square footage of muck.

[ooc-i know she's neutral i'm just soo bored and need to get back into rp'ng =D]

[{Nevvy}]

[ack sorry, best i could do tonight]

Sparrows darted to and fro across the overcast sky, letting out their squawks. Sometimes they did not sound like sparrows but like ducks. Horrible horrible ducks that did not know where their place was in life. Daggers threaded through the reborn sod, sinking deeper. That’s right, leave a little bit more of an impression than the other low-lives that pass through here. A chipmunk skittered through her appendages as she stalked the wilderness, wanting a tree to bounce out at her so she could have some story to rekindle when she was even more bored. Deep sigh emitted as eyes lifted to the sky. Drums of thunder led the march of the storm turning away, although a fine drizzle let a shine hit her copper canvas. Bleached light forked through the sky and landed miles away, although it seemed to be far too close. Sparklers seemed to be heard, although the electricity in the air electrified her blood full of energy to join the battalion. Thunder pounded inside her eardrums once again, although it was fainter.

The narcissistic breeze that swooped in and impaled her senses told her of an advancing hellion. One always knew. All of a sudden one would feel a cold breeze sweep through, all the lights would extinguish. The squirrels would run and hide, their cheeks stuffed with nuts. It meant something to her: The birds would stop singing. Well that one Carmenta could not complain about. It meant an oncoming storm, complete with hail and hurricane-force winds. Play time. Chestnut twin auds swiveled, listening to the rhythmic beats of a comatose stag. Chocolate orbs caught little movements here and there. Yep there goes a squirrel…Maybe it was the storm though. Eh whatever, she really didn’t care. The pumper kept her relaxed, never even speeding to increase the sympathetic reaction that should be coming. Fight or flight, games were not included in that mixture.

Deep breath was taken, her lungs expanding to catch the oxygen, releasing it to the red liquid that kept her alive and sarcastic. Amber orbs searched about for anything more interesting, but magic was not real, so she was stuck with this one. Limbs carried her forth, turning to eye the bastard. Just a quick glance, nothing more. Handsome, she would give him that but nothing more. Muscles were noticeable underneath the colored hide. One second of eye contact before going back on her merry way, walking away from him rather than stopping to just chitchat. However, it would be just rude not to say something back. Afternoon. How are you? Why say more when more was really not needed? Then it was just considered rambling. Sardonic grin replaced boredom. Was it not so that one greeted a lady with manners rather than a gruff hello? Dusty tendrils slapped at the backs of her legs, keeping away the maggots that thought they could have HER blood. Attack the stag there that interrupted her boredom. It was just getting good. Tiara was bent toward the ground, ignoring the presence for the most part, although one ear was kept cocked toward him as she wondered if stealth was on the list of his attributes. Yes random thoughts for a random fae.

[Demmy]

weight shifts in irritation as the fae continues on without so much as a how do you do. there. lyrics slip easily from her labrums. how are you? how am i? sardonic laughter rolls forth from parted maw, grass-stained incisors flashing momentarily. indeed. how was he. did that mean how he felt at this very moment? pretty damn good, aside from the irritating pests buzzing about his matted frame, dive-bombing his pelt with a smattering of inane persistence and fencing gaily with tangled whipcords. or perhaps the question was meant to be taken more ... deeply? for further down the stallion was a riotous mass of turmoil, a nasty, seething pestilence of biblical proportions. hatred predominant, darkness pervades his soul. but surely this female did not wish to expose her soul to the poison of his own. surely not. a sardonic grin, wry in nature, twists lips upwards in a nasty curve. indeed.

flints shift forth in an easy gait, slowly pacing the fae, silence becoming their companionship most nicely. amber pools flick here and there, turning a cloudy, vague interest on his surroundings. perhaps he was being lax in his surveying of this 'traveler's field' but what the hell. should danger lurk in the shadows ... cranium leaves the thought at that, not bothering to finish it and release it upon his psyche. none equaled the king of darkness. danger did not exist in his world. it couldn't. show a single thread of weakness and the wolves would be upon him like white on rice, figuratively speaking. skull turns towards the vixen holding him in ignorance, her frame pacing a few horse lengths ahead of him, a single ear cocked his direction. perhaps stealth was upon his list of attributes; perhaps not. appendages lick forward again, Taboo having paused for a moment, resuming locomotion with practiced ease. vocalization also resumes, gravelled speech thrown forth. how am i? a simple-minded question. sort of beneath your intellect, is it not? or do i presume wrong? perhaps not, though i am rarely wrong. what brings yourself to these parts? surely you seek a big bad steed to whisk you away to safety ... after all, you females always need one built from testosterone to protect you. rumblings cease, grulla grinding to halt. no longer would he follow the wench. should she chose to continue the conversation she would halt. he saw no need to pursue her -- she had offered nothing to entice him to the contrary. wasting energy walking aimlessly was not his idea of a good time. and of course his remarks were quite sexist, but he does not notice, it is ingrained upon his nature. patiently the muscled drake watches with interest, wondering if the hooks and barbs had found their mark.