My Little Nightmare

[ashleigh04]

.Muse. .Fresian. .4 Years.

M.y own little Nightmare...

Oh mercy me, God bless catastrophe
Cause there‘s no way in hell
We‘ll ever live to see this through this so
Drive yourself insane tonight
It‘s not that far away and I just
Filled up your tank earlier today…

All his life he lived a lie. Yet he had yet to be punished. Haunted. Somehow this anger would never leave the ebon bodice, that pasted itself over the stag. His pools always stained crimson. The color he loved so much. Yet hated it for what pain it had caused to his family. Yet it sounded silly blaming a color but he couldn‘t give a fuck on it. He hadn‘t a care in the world and it had to remain that way. A shiver steamed through his torso, enraging in anger as he dropped down into the place he had watched things die from far above. He pictured his mother, the early horse he had learned to love, drowning in the bones that his step father had punished her so. The bastard. He had to pay and he did. The night when crimson stained everything was a day never to forget. Though Muse was not seen as a murderer he felt like one. But it was not his doing in the death of the stallion. Far from it. It was the dark lord that invaded his country. Muse left suddenly before his nightmare began to enrol itself before his very own eyes that were forever coiled with whites. His crest hung down in a weeping action as he mourned for his mother. He did not care if this ruined him. His mother meant so much to him, for all she had given him. The will to live in his darkest moments.

Yet he always wished he could take her death bed. She deserved life though at least the step father had died a painful death. His razors sharpened themselves against one another, a sign that he was about to kick up a fuss. Things lurked around him, he was sure of it. But whenever he looked all he could see what the purple and black sky that tormented him. The same sky he dreamt about every night. Though unluckily for him the dreams were sick. Ones that no horse no matter how dark or light they were wouldn’t want to dream. Engraved on his blade was a deep crimson scar that had never healed. A sign of him. One that all recognized him by… if they knew him. He was not one people remembered or were told of he. He was simply, oh so simply forgotten. And forced out of minds. Which did not upset him. He was happy -if he ever could be- that they did not remember him. Though Melody did remember him and when she arrived at his talons he shooed her off. She was terrified at the way he reacted and he could not help feeling anger at himself for doing so.

His tassel lay damp, wavy and black as the midnight could ever regain, laying itself on his muscular rump he felt the dampness shoot down his spine. Flaring his nostrils that comftarbly stood on his mug he readied himself to rear, which was a sign of discomfort which was always a bad sign. Kicking his talons into mid air he whinnied. The voice not nearly sounding as sweet as the word. Lyrics screamed out, literally a scream. None that would be recognized as a horses voice. A monstrous voice that bellow out of him. His weakened bodice flew aside to the floor. Just glad that no one was disturbing him. Then there could be hell.

Your on your own my little Nightmare
You cannot stay here, It‘s far too bright for you
If they attack you, just lay there
Play dead dear, it‘s your only hope of pulling through
And seconds they seem like a lifetime, a dream recurring
A dream that can‘t come true…

[stitchedskull]

"Steady you fool... steady... it'll sound soon enough, and you can run till your heart fall out of your dirty chest! But steady now... and shut up those other bastards. Don't know the first thing about war... You can't have fear, else they'll rip you to shreds!" The stallion thought in silence, eahc muscle tenser than the last, his pillars quivering in anticipation at the charge. The run and clash of horse on man, the sounds of sharpnel and the 'Nnnrat-tat-tat-tat-tat-tat' of the machine guns, the cries of agony over lost limbs and brothers.

As he waited in the small grove of trees, the sound never came. Open nares tipped to the sky to watch a fighter jet drop a bomb. It fell and fell and fell. Finally it struck the earth, shards of metal flying about, dust and smoke filling the old brute's lungs. Then it cleared. And all was gone. The guns and men and other horses. All was gone. Just to show a young fresian standing alone in a field.

Of course, the war was gone. It was over and far away if it wasn't. The old German snorted and dropped his head slightly. An aud rose to listen to a passing plane. "No, no! It isn't there! You crazy bastard... it isn't there!" The stallion once more thought in silence.

Perhaps a chat with that youth might clear his mind for the time being. Yes, of course. A chat. It had been a while, hadn't it? Far too long, even for this aging war horse.

My Darling Rose Corpse hobbled from his grove of warfare, glacing about at the skies. Nothing fell, nothing rang in his ears. The coast was clear. Of course it was you ol' bastard! The war isn't here!

Velvets hung over the grass, yellow ivories clipping it away with flicks of his muzzle. As he chewed his sunken temples rose and fell, signaling his age over the colt. Once he swallowed, he approached the black hued beast.

Clearing his throat lightly, he stood tall. Not quite the elegant form he once had. His coat was bumpy from scars, miscolored in some patches. Dirt was under his hair, and his hooves were caked with mud that would have once been cleaned carefully by his mount. But now, there wasn't a soul to do the job.

"Hello, sir." He said. German rang lightly in his chords, but subtly enough to sound rather musical. "Pardon my interuption."

[ashleigh04]

.Muse. .Friesian. .4 Years.

M.y own little Nightmare...

Oh mercy me, God bless catastrophe
Cause there‘s no way in hell
We‘ll ever live to see this through this so
Drive yourself insane tonight
It‘s not that far away and I just
Filled up your tank earlier today…

The sound of another horse threw his daggers a blaze. Like an animals without temptation. His pools glanced at the side so his ebon crown could not be seen. A stallion. One gender of a horse that he could not bring himself to like. His lobes fired back. Glued to his crani’ as if he had none at all. A small bite had pierced through his left ear from the attack of a stallion that tried to rape his femmora friend years ago. When he was a normal yet destructive stag‘. His ebon pelt glazed it self with crimson blood in his eyes. Though to ones of a natural state it would look his usual true black. He had made no movement for a few minutes now, surely this horse would prefer to turn back. Muse wandered why he had given him a chance to run, not like he usually did with horses. I mean this new stag that dared to face him was nothing ‘special’ A bone was cracked into the rocky floor that lay beneath his talons. Razors waved sharp. And he new he had to react. The kind words of this stallion echoed throughout his soul. Perhaps he wanted to join in conversation, maybe he thought this ol' stag looks lonely. Obviously he could not read Muse‘s mind. His mood was ready for a fight. But not a physical one. He was mourning over the death of his mother, one time that he hated to be interrupted. Well apart from the rest. And he knew it was time to turn towards the german stag that dared to awaked his fate.

Bodice shuffled around. Not scruffily but rather elegantly. Any first views would see a stallion that danced in joy. Preferred to be a loner but still greeted others. He was once called the Secret Dancer as all his natural gaits contained an elegant dance. One that was unique and he was proud to call his own. He tried to lose the dancing but it never seemed to completely go away. Instead parts faded, he was no longer as prancy or dainty. His glaring eyes faced the stallion. No sound moved from his maw. Instead he stepped closer, fantastically coordinated body walking perfectly as should his Friesian build yet he still did not speak. He stopped three metres before the stallion. What? he said coldly. Glancing, staring. Not the nicest way to be greeted yet it would do, as he wasn‘t exactly greeting this horse.

The sky turned green as he looked upwards, eyes full of passion. The memories of his child hood always haunted him when he thought of his mother, a flash back would occur. Sometimes for hours, maybe even days and often he would find himself believing they were true and when he awoke from his dazed position he often had a fit. He could see a handsome Friesian colt maybe two years galloping along a field, a bay mare tried hard to gallop faster than him but the herd often said he was unbeatable. A smile plastered his lips as his mother watched over. She stood next to another stallion. This time an uneasy black color. Though without the build of a Friesian. More of a… cross breed. His step father. He smiled as he took over the herd, raped helpless mares that his mother never knew of. Made her feel as if she were the only one that mattered. And only when she was dying did the bastard tell her what he had done. And worse he told her about all the bad deeds. Muse watched.

His eyes shook back into life. He found himself fitting upon the ground and only then did he realise that hard parts of rock dug into his back, grazing his face. His scar flashing crimson. It would all be over in a few minutes.

Your on your own my little Nightmare
You cannot stay here, It‘s far too bright for you
If they attack you, just lay there
Play dead dear, it‘s your only hope of pulling through
And seconds they seem like a lifetime, a dream recurring
A dream that can‘t come true…[/size][/color]

[stitchedskull]

The German mutt was rather taken a back, but shock never crossed into his expression. 'What'? That was all he had to say? And to a veteran. The youth needed ot learn his manners, and unfortunatly for the ebon, he made his rude mistake to a crazy to old bastard. Corpse wasn't a stag who wished to have bitter arguments with every living body he came across. He loved a good bicker, but now he wanted a chat. To talk stallion talk and make sence. Not snap and hiss.

Battles of the tongue and no more were rather foolish, and fight for mares in his eyes. They were petty, and compared to a scrap, pointless. After all, the tongue can sting, but it cannot bleed.

"Watch that pink snake of yours." He hissed. His lips parted to bare his yellowing ivorns, thorns tipped back along his chalky grey banner. His boa outstretched, his head tipped up in pride. The Fresian was larger than he, but younger and without the years of blood ridden in his throat. Lifting a mudded knife he stomped it out before him, whip leaping like a serpent. "But perhaps you're just deaf. I said 'Hello, sir. Pardon my interuption.'" His words were bitter, and slightly hungry as he prodded the stallion's temper. Perhaps some sort of dust cloud might stir between them.

His patients for a responce grew thin, and the look in the male's eyes grew distant. For a moment he had his own moment, rearing lightly and turning full circle to avoid a crashing plane. The guns struck his rump and his cried in pain, but his throat ripped around, sending his skull to look back. The lone black stallion with no gear tore him away from his war. Then, the ebon beast fell.

Corpse considered leaving him to suffer. The colt deserved it, but... he could do with a friend. And by the sound of it, they both could. Breathing heavily, his rump still in imagined pain, he kneeled and lay beside the thrashing bodice, placing his muzzle on the other's face.

"Shut up you fool. Nothing happened."

[ashleigh04]

.Muse. .Friesian. .4 Years.

M.y own little Nightmare...

Oh mercy me, God bless catastrophe
Cause there‘s no way in hell
We‘ll ever live to see this through this so
Drive yourself insane tonight
It‘s not that far away and I just
Filled up your tank earlier today…

The words of the stallions echoed round his crown, and how it hurt! He must have accidentally grazed himself when falling onto the cursed bone that open up and swallowed him. Mother! he called out piteously realising she had gone and only then did he regain his memory to recall that she had died some time ago. He picked to his hooves, everything disappeared around him. The german stag’ the world, the floor beneath where he stood safely upon. And just like that he blinked, twitching auds baited against his wispy black fringe that tended to cover one eye. And when his pools opened everything was back again, the purple skies and the ol’ stag. Why had he stayed? Why didn’t he turn when Muse rudely spoke to him. Well if you can call a word, conversation. And slowly, very slowly by the second Muse felt himself feeling less threatened to hate this ebon. And there was a part of him that wished to like him. It wasn’t Muse’s fault. All the stallions that were ever in his life were stupid bastards. He had never met one that proved to be anything more. He was four years now. A stallion, last year a colt. Though some considered him still young and very foolish. Yet the question that still rang through Muse’s mind was why hadn’t he attacked the ebon. What had been about him?

Muse he said sharply to the stag. Giving him his name. He wasn’t in the mood to be alone. Whenever he was something bad always happened. Yet he didn’t say he was friends or even liked the stag either. After all you don’t have to like someone to talk to them. Probably the first time he had given his name for years. He never met anyone special, worth talking to. Therefore he couldn’t give a name. And in those years he was brought down. All confidence gone. Forcing him to turn how he was. Not dark yet he still had no care. He got happy out of pain other horses gained. Unless it was his mother or younger filly friend. He hadn’t seen her in years. When his step father raped her she often hid herself into dark caves. Yes she was only a yearling. 1 year old filly and yet that fucking beast still managed to hunt her down, knock her into a bush and screw her. Maybe seeing his best friend get hurt helped him on his way to death.

Though all Muse secretly wanted was a friend that he could stick to like glue. One he could trust, one that would be there for him no matter what he committed or what he was going through, yet he never told anyone or let small signals for what he wanted. They‘d laugh. They always did. And they never cared how it affected him. Under the mop of black he was a gentle stag, really he was. He needed bringing on. Like a green youngster who had just learnt to be tacked. He would be a good horse, if only he had the friend. Though changing his whole life would definitely not happen over night, he probably would never jump out of his skin. He’d still have the rude habits and still would not be able to trust other horses.

And it was all the step father’s fault.

Your on your own my little Nightmare
You cannot stay here, It‘s far too bright for you
If they attack you, just lay there
Play dead dear, it‘s your only hope of pulling through
And seconds they seem like a lifetime, a dream recurring
A dream that can‘t come true…

[stitchedskull]

My Darling knew that feeling. To be so desperate to say a final word, watching a friend, a lover, family fall their final into into the slumber that stalks us all. Corpse had cried out few times, either he did not see the fall, or he was too busy avoiding the sharpnell to mind. But ususally, it was because of a lack of friends in the service. Just a simply lack of names to cry out.

So it seemed both stags were in need of a friend. Both creatures were cold and angry at the world, and a warm being at their side might cure them... or at least serve as some ibuprofen to dull out the constant throb of agony. Corpse did not know truely this fact, but he did know this ebon creature, the hue of all things evil, was not himself evil. The black stallion was an innocent youth who once had everything to live for, now nothing to die for except what's already dead. He, Muse he said, was like all the other horses and mules he met at war, where nothing but misunderstood meat. And Corpse did not take pity, but took his side. He knew Muse... perhaps Muse was like himself, and yet totally different. Both had seen the devastations of love and hate, and had seen more than any beasts' eye could hold and remain sane. Both suffered memories and halucinations, and both refused to free themselves... or so they showed.

Corpse knew the other would not come out for him, or pester the ol' German into coming out and being friendly, so he knew it was his job. He would give his name, perhaps offer friendly words in hopes of a reply. After all, one can only be so rude for so long to a kind voice. And perhaps the swearing could be eleiminated?

"My Darling Rose Corpse... but seeing as it's long and... elegant? Corpse will do just fine." His words were not soft, they had never left his maw soft, only as a tiny colt to his ma before they were seperated. Corpse had missed the 'be polite' classes from his dear miss. "I couldn't help but notice something happened to your mother...? But I understandif you don't want to talk about it." Then, Corpse pressed the ivory skull marking that covered his face against the Fresien's black side. "But if you want an ear, I have two."

[ashleigh04]

.Muse. .Friesian. .4 Years.

M.y own little Nightmare...

Oh mercy me, God bless catastrophe
Cause there‘s no way in hell
We‘ll ever live to see this through this so
Drive yourself insane tonight
It‘s not that far away and I just
Filled up your tank earlier today…

It was true he needed and wanted a friend. More than ever now. And he wasn't sure whether this horse could be one of those.
He was always a loner. Emo by looks emo by nature. What his old friend told him anyway. But a horse like him is allowed friends.
Though this stag that turned out to be aliased Curse. A name he was fond of, well the word before the name anyway. A smile almost plastered his maw,
a happy one for a change. But the words of a death hit him, and hit him hard. Like a bullet smashing out of a shot gun and hitting him in the heart. He let out
a small whimper, like an animal being hit. She had died months ago. He had to get over it. Perhaps he was plain stupid. But how he missed her so.
'Talk about it you fool' he whispered to himself, like he had a split personality. 'No! what buisness is it of his?
What could will it do me? Slightly louder than last time. And then the voices faded. And he made a decision, right or not he didn't know.
If he would regret it and have a stupid, pathetic break down... he did not know. He whimpered soundly as he felt movement to his side, as if it were a crow pecking out him
telling him to die. But he turned to find it was just ol' corpse. His mother yes, he thought to himself. I don't know if i am doing the right thing. One hasn't spoken for some time,
scared that one is driving one's self crazy. I may be foolish but now i dare speak. there must be something pretty special about Corpse, other wise why would Muse be speaking.
Maybe he just needed to talk. After all it must have been around 6months he hadn't spoken to anyone but his mental self. It felt good to talk. Even better to this ebon stag, that had given
him a chance instead of being harsh back. And somehow Muse felt that he shouldn't have said a word, but it just felt too good.

Time had passed since the last word he spoke. Speak. That was the last word. It must have been a few minutes so he decided to stop the awkward silence and speak the quetion which was asked.
My mother, was loving. She cared. My father was lead to a herd and he died. I didn't know him too well. When he died we moved on. Mother fell in love with a bastard. He betrayed her. Raped
helpless mares, my best friend. And then killed my mother. He got his commupance. He's dead. he rushed himself. Not going into detail.

Your on your own my little Nightmare
You cannot stay here, It‘s far too bright for you
If they attack you, just lay there
Play dead dear, it‘s your only hope of pulling through
And seconds they seem like a lifetime, a dream recurring
A dream that can‘t come true…

[Corpse Rotten]

Corpse didn't seem like a creature to sit and listen to woe-ful tales, but, he really was. Not because he likles to bask in another's sorrow, nor to really console them in pity. He wanted to help by offering an ear, which he found to be a great help to them, and because he was in awe. Awed that someone could be so miserable over the death of a loved one, that they ruin their own life. Wouldn't the deceased want them to be happy? Live life to their fullest, and then some to make up for the dead's lost time? Corpse would. He would want anyone sobbing over his bones, he would want parting sound, then to be celebrated, not mourned. But mostly, he was in awe these creature could become so close, so loving. To feel an emotion so strong. Corpse could only imagine. It was the closest thing he ever felt to tears... watching another's.

Never would the ebon-grey stallion fell such a powerful feeling, save his bloodlust, so, he needed it somehow. Some watched others get hurt to cry, some hurt themselves. Corpse, watched them all sulk about life, and realized what pathetic beings he was surounded by. But, he wasn't one to judge. He would never understand, so he took his misunderstanding as the next best thing.

Letting the Fresian's word fade to the eerie silence of the dead lands, he bumped the creature with a tender muzzle. He knew how to ease the pain, and he did it by constantly letting them know he was there, and intrested.

"I'm sorry. It must be hard. I know what it's like to watch suffering. More than you'd ever comprehend. But... you'd go mad if you let it bother you. Remember... don't dwell." Raking his maw against the stallion's back again, he shuffled. "Would you're mother want you crying for so long? No... not at all. No mother is so greedy as to have theire beloved son waist away because of them. No. You should celebrate for her, celebrate her life by living yours. That doesn't mean you must forever part her."

Corpse wasn't usually so intent on mending a heart. But, those times were different. He hadn't played priest since the wars, and in those times, they all understood and they all knew. Use your rage and get revenge, don't hide away. But know was different. Know it was he, a knowing stallion, speaking to a young stag alone, no wars, and no knowledge of what it feels like ot watch the only creatures who ever spoke a kind word be torn apart by loose sharpnel. the images put a shiver down his spine.

Looking up into the distance, his eyes fogged. He watched a tough mule, Tip, struggling in the mud. His hind leg was limp, but Tip had suffered worse. THe mule bellowed out agianst the weight of the guns on his back as he slipped. Then, the smoke filled the air, the rush of wind and deep echoes of a bomb. Horses cried, the humans screaming over it. Mules made theire awkward protests, and Tip gave his last cry out to Corpse, and Corpse his.

The ebon stallion stuggled against the Fresian, kicking as he felt the pain in his withers and his rump. When the spoke cleared he was sitting ina sweat next to Muse.

[ashleigh04]

.Muse. .Friesian. .4 Years.

M.y own little Nightmare...

Oh mercy me, God bless catastrophe
Cause there‘s no way in hell
We‘ll ever live to see this through this so
Drive yourself insane tonight
It‘s not that far away and I just
Filled up your tank earlier today…

His mug got nudged slightly, he ignored it. He knew what it was like. How could he know? He saw others go through it but had he actually felt what they were feeling? His crown turned slightly, and then down as he saw the ebon silver brute lay next to him on the floor. His crane’ limped over him slightly and this time it was his turn to do the nudging. His nostrils flared, gently blowing the hairs to and fro’ He had no second thoughts to why he was acting like this, maybe he thought Corpse cared? Stupid reason. He was pathetic. Who had ever cared for him apart from the two he loved. And where were they? Mother, dead. Melody? No idea.

For once in his scrawny young life he actually felt brighter, not the majestic black brute he appeared to be, but a magnificent white stallion, one with pride but then the blessed memories had to haunt him back to the place he always was, and it was like his world had turned upside down, white coat ripped off revealing the black he was all his life and his memory swirled with colors, dark purples, teals, blacks and grey. Until he fell to the floor in another fit next to the brute.

Melody! his throat burned from the agonizing screech that left his jaw wide. Melody! another roar let out, still the stubborn brute would not dismount. Razors gleamed sharp as a thousand knives, ready to sink into whatever’s blood mounted itself against the flashy bay mare’s rump. Horror flooded her pools, hazel turned white, white turned red. Bodice ripped itself away until he panted, heaving on the ground and almost a tear plastered itself against Muse’s lid. The same nudge he had given Corpse happened to the mare, his best friend. I’m so sorry… forgive me please his pools watched as the elder brute galloped away, almost a cackle leaving his pathetic mouth.

MELODY! lids flustered open, he was lying on the same ground he remembered next to a horse. where is she? Where is she you bastard! razors nipped out his throat, only to stop at the last second. His neck flung back, crown hid behind the dark tassles, covering his lashes’. A weeping motion was heard, by a scream.

What was happening to him? Terror flickered in his eyes, almost too easy to see. He didn’t want to be this way, really he didn’t. Why couldn’t he be normal. Why!

Your on your own my little Nightmare
You cannot stay here, It‘s far too bright for you
If they attack you, just lay there
Play dead dear, it‘s your only hope of pulling through
And seconds they seem like a lifetime, a dream recurring
A dream that can‘t come true…

[stitchedskull]

No one spoke ot him like that. No crazy fool, no mightly lord. The dark hued stallion skidded back slightly, extending his neck. Short, wild banner thrashed as his lips rose to bare yellow, crooked teeth. CLicking them together, he stopped the earth, his cord thrashing back and forth. Auds fell as his lids rose to show his white.

"Shut up, you cunt!" He growled, clicking his teeth again. "I know of no Melody save the bombs in my ears. Grow up you wimpering maggot."

With a final huff, he calmed. His violent, crazed disposition returning to a calm, gentle manner. A bomb sounded in the distance. THe machine guns sounded closer. Glancing about, he saw nothing but a wounded soldier stumbling into the trees. Looking away from the Fresian, distant shame in his cold, blue eyes, he dropped his head slightly. "I'm sorry." He murmered.

It wasn't a personal thing. Had anyone snapped at him like that he would have snarled right back. In fact, had it been just another anyone, he probably would have had there flesh, but this stallion was different... troubled. Corpse knew each creature's will power and mental power was different, just like looks and physical strength. Maybe this stallion was soft... kinder than he. Perhaps he should be more like Muse. To make up for his rude behavior he nuzzled against the black stallion, his dark pelt looking dull and pale next to the other's. The world... what had it come to?

(How awsome would it be if they got the hots for each other. XD)

[ashleigh04]

.Muse. .Fresian. .4 Years.

M.y own little Nightmare...

Oh mercy me, God bless catastrophe
Cause there‘s no way in hell
We‘ll ever live to see this through this so
Drive yourself insane tonight
It‘s not that far away and I just
Filled up your tank earlier today…

A smile weakened his maw. The words ‘sorry’ hit through him. Never had he apologised to anyone but Melody. He had to forget about her. The push from the stallion’s velvet piece made his crown turn. Not towards Corpse but away. It seemed the world never understood him yet somehow he felt Corpse did. Sure he was quick with his tongue and seemed to sometimes regret his quickness but a horse had to be sharp with one another in order to live a life where others do not take their toll on one. It was like his life should end. And he prayed to god it would. Though he knew Satan would claim him first. He deserved his life to live in hell. He had all his living life so why should his next life be any different. But did he really want to die? Or was it a hoax. A hoax he was setting on himself. He could be possessed. Muse you fool! he shouted out suddenly, not realising he shouted it out aloud. His razors glued shut immediately. Stop thinking this way. Stop! Your driving yourself mad. You’re a complete nutcase!

He stood up. Not realising he had been laying on his back, one way or another. For some time. His feathers in that time had tangled with some stones that had once hurled off the cliff that towered over head. His crown looked up. Vultures perched themselves on a piece of bone, with little meat left on it. That would be him one day… one day.


Your on your own my little Nightmare
You cannot stay here, It‘s far too bright for you
If they attack you, just lay there
Play dead dear, it‘s your only hope of pulling through
And seconds they seem like a lifetime, a dream recurring
A dream that can‘t come true…

(ooc: crappy post, im in a rush. Away till Friday XP That would be funny <3)

[stitchedskull]

The stallion coughed lightly, his thorns flattening against his head. Sunken temples rose and fell with the ragged sounds, his blue pools shutting. Once his coughing subsides his eyes stayed closed, but his auds slowly rose, then slumped to sides like weary men. The icey blues opened at Muse's outburst. Looking down at the up-side down stallion, he kneeled and lay beside him.

"A fool is right, a crazy fool." He said, taking a deep breath and letitng out another small cough. He nipped a peice of grass, dead and withering, but it was grass. He chewed it for a while before swallowing. "But there's no reason to be so hard on yourself. It'll all be alright. I know what it feel like to be so low nothing else matters but ending it all."

Corpse flopped his head down, rolling to his side. His eyes closed again and he took a deep breath in, then out in a huff.

(Equally short and crappeh'. ^^ But yesh... I think we should.)

[ashleigh04]

.Muse. .Fresian. .4 Years.

M.y own little Nightmare...

Oh mercy me, God bless catastrophe
Cause there‘s no way in hell
We‘ll ever live to see this through this so
Drive yourself insane tonight
It‘s not that far away and I just
Filled up your tank earlier today…

He could barely hear the ebon' stag speak as he lay there choking on something which wasn't there. Terror inflamed to whites in his eyes as if he saw something that no body else could see. But he hadn't. What he felt was unexplainable. Depressing to the bone. He looked up at the sky which had fully clouded over, his black mane hanging over him like dread locks. He looked like a young messed up dog. Whimpering over nothing. Air, twas' all that was happening in ones eyes but in his it felt completely different, uncontrollable. Scary. Terrifying. Over a thousand words which could describe the pain he went through everyday. How he had never got over Melody or his mother dying and being abused. To see the ones you loved being harmed in one way or another.

He looked forth to Corpse. It felt as if they were related in some surreal way. As if he had known him forever and yet he hadn't. They must have been talking for what... an hour or so? Yet alot of the time was silence they probably hadn't exchanged too many words that was expected of each in that young hour. Seconds ticked away like minutes, minutes like hours, hours like days and days like years. All in all in this young'uns mind it seemed he had been standing in this same spot at least half a dozen years. The crazy fucker.

Your on your own my little Nightmare
You cannot stay here, It‘s far too bright for you
If they attack you, just lay there
Play dead dear, it‘s your only hope of pulling through
And seconds they seem like a lifetime, a dream recurring
A dream that can‘t come true…

[stitchedskull]

Muddy blue optics looked at the writhing body beside him. To a casual horse he would have been frightened and run off long ago, but Corpse had learned. Learned that no matter how frightful a being might be, no matter how horrifyingly disturbing, it was still just that. A being. And like Corpse, this creature beside him couldn't be left alone. Too many times Corpse had walked away from a twitching, snarling body, it's belly ripped open for the heavens above, or it's neck snapped back and it's legs twisted where they should not twist.

"Are you better?" The pale black stallion questioned, his ivory mask facing ahead of him, a grey-blue pool at his new found 'friend'. "I'm still here.... things will work out. You're still young enough. When your older, you will laugh at yourself for such a stupid thing."

Twisting his boa to look down at the spawrled figure he nudged the ebon's side gently. "If there's anything I can do."

[stitchedskull]

(BUMP. In case you didn't see it. ^^)