.cant take it

[Meg]

A P O L L O S
child of lost soul
& disappointment.

His father should have never left the lands in his hands. He was a mere child. No matter how hard Apollos tried to take care of his father's lands and old mares, he couldn't handle it. Finally he bailed out. Maybe one day he will find a home, but Apollos for now was a wanderer, as his father had been when he first arrived to these lands with his aunt, Meg.

One step, two step, three. His heart beat steadily in his powerful chest. His dark eyes stared emptily into the night, the soft moonlight falling on his broad black back. He never visited these lands, but he figured it was time, since he had ran from his father's lands. These lands that he had stumbled upon were very different then the smooth, sandy shores of the isle and the thick undergrowth of the jungle. There was no soft trickle of water or smell of fresh leaves and grass here. It was empty and there were rocks, stones, boulders everywhere to be tripped upon. His large platter sized talons clattered noisily every time he stumbled over a rock that the moonlight had not shown on. The air had the scent of death and sorrow.

Apollos lowered his thick skull to the ground, sniffing at the dry grass under his talons. Thick, curly feathers fluffed out around his talons and up his stilts to his knees. As he bent down, his long powerful neck tossed his long black tressels over his face. Lifting his skull, he glanced about. No one was here. Empty. This land was very much so like he was. He looked like his father now, after he had grown up and no longer had that air of a child about him. He was powerful, standing 18 hh like his father and black as night. He was a friesian, purest of noblest blood. Did he care? No, he would have rather been a mixed breed then have to carry the burden his father left him. He was a failure, a sellout. He had left his father's lands to wander and left them at the mercy of another stallion. Oh how stupid he was.

Apollos felt greif wash over him. His father was gone and had been for a long time, but these lands seemed to make his memory appear fresh in Apollos's mind. He would trade anything to bring his father back so he could have his lands while Apollos could explore and be the mischeif maker he was. But Windago was long gone and in the ground, happy at last to be reunited with Oasis. The moon gleamed down on Apollos, playing tricks on his body. There was only one way to tell Windago apart from his son, and that was the single pearly white star on his forhead. It was covered under a mass of curly tressels that spilled down Apollos's face. Apollos was a very handsome young stag, but very confused and lost. Anyone that could remember what Windago looked like would surely think that this was him, standing in the moonlight like a ghost in the night. Sadness continued to fall over Apollos until he left out a deep, trembling bugle; calling some to give him company on this chilly night.

Apollos had been wandering far and wide, and the companionship of another had escaped him. He had not seen another equine in over a year. Nor had he bother to call upon on until this night. He seeked someone, anyone to stumble onto these lands and keep him some company. He needed to hear the news of these lands and find out if his father's lands had fallen into the hands of another yet. As much as it would relieve him to find that his father's lands would have a better leader, it also made him full of disappointment in himself. He let out another cry, gentle and deep and it bounded out into the darkness of the night. And there he stood under the moonlight, feeling no more then a child under the muscle and bulk.

he will wander,
on into the night.
until it is right.

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[npc]

of this, of that

His sanctuary had been disturbed! It was almost enraging.

No. No it wasn’t.

The calm washed over him and took away the subtle irritation of disruption. It was not that stallion’s fault for this sort of disruption, how could he possibly know that this domain was taken? Besides, horses came he to mourn, which was a bit foolish of them. He watched the animal from a ledge in the ravine, very useful of it. Taking in each detail. Large, black, depressed. That about summed it up. A whisper of a sigh escaped him before he began to follow the animal on its journey. Listening to its song. How awful!

Each foot he let fall on the ground hit gently and lightly, he tilted his head awkwardly at times to see the intruder, but never lost him, and never stumbled. It was a heavy consideration, whether or not a greeting was necessary. He broke out in song instead. From above, leaves sprayed into the air carrying on their spines loud and resonating crackles. A ghostly sort of noise followed them with no discernable words, awkwardly high from a male. He felt alight with the dark, smouldering away and rising into the sky. Skipping.

He jumped a rock, and landed quietly on the ground, kicking more leaves, this time in a stream towards the male below. The male who had, before he sung, let out an awful cry, which made the ears drop to block it out, keep it away. The pitch changed to something more sharp and darker, evolving just as quickly into a lullaby with tones warm as summer sun. This rotation continued, until finally he jumped down behind the animal, looking up to him, sure to be noticed.

A coat of dull fur, dark, but near impossible to tell the true colour in the pale light of the moon now. He kept his head down, his mane covered his face. Oh, but for intruders.

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