Post by ♥/tiyre on Aug 30, 2007 12:27:41 GMT -5
erised;
i'm known as
your greatest desire
i'm known as
your greatest desire
Hello, beauty, the water called to the shadowy figure. Graceful body was finely lined with taut muscles, her elegant neck proud in an arch. Soft waves sighed as they veiwed the elegant thoroughbred, her blue eyes clear and calm, though with a flirtatious twist if you looked close enough. Come on, sweet stallions - come and meet perfection.
Sweet stallions would not do for this dressy mare. Ah, no - Constant Precipice had taught her daughter that the best stallions were those that had a wicked streak. Perhaps that was true, though a purely sweet stallion had won the "love" of the fae, once. A daughter was born to that light candycane, one that was left with the bastard. Perhaps he was perfect, but only for a minute - who did he think he was, anyway, asking Erised to stay with him until death? Please. The world needs to see these looks.
Though she had been swayed by a light, a sweety, she was by no means a light. She was a w.h.o.r.e, ask anyone. Born and bred into a long family of such, with innumerable brothers and sisters from her mother's long years, it was who she was. She would woo a stallion, only to leave him when a foal was born. It was a long, proud line of work. At least, that's what they told themselves.
The last of her mother's long chain, her father chosen for his apparant perfection, she had been her mother's favorite, the one she kept with her instead of leaving behind. It was Erised that had been taught the ways of her family. And the number one rule: don't let them know you're leaving 'til you're gone. If only Precipice was here. She would be so disappointed in her child, and would commence with finding a stallion for her to Erised's embarassment. She had had but one - a low number, to be sure. She was five years old, so surely she should be on the next one's way now.
But no. She was alone. Of all the places she could have come, she had gone through a desolate wilderness, only to come here. And though both her eyes and ears told her there were others about, her flaring paper thins picked up nothing in their current vicinity. Bloody butterfly in the stain dress reared, a clutching scream tearing from her delicate throat. And while it sounded slightly angry, none could believe that it was not femine. She was a master, an actress - make them believe you love them even as they bow to kiss the ground you walk on.