[tHIS mIRROR aIN'T bIG eNOUGH fOR tHE tWO oF uS]

[stef]

Diamond rope, silver chain
A pretty noose is a pretty pain
And I don't like
What you've got me hanging from

Forest life scampered 'cross dampened parchment, the fermenting pine needles and dry herbs giving way to little pattering feet. Beneath the lustrous shades of emerald, shafts of light beamed into the shadows, in the dire hope that they could feed the undergrowth with the warmth they needed to survive. And yes, by chance, some light fell upon a tiny seedling. But many other seedlings were left in the black abyss, their tiny limbs quivering with the icy breeze. How fragile they were, so delicate they could have been blown away by the wind.

Honeycomb eyes watched the scene, a bittersweet bemusement cascading through their rich yellow waves. Right now the young fae herself could relate to the seedlings in the shadows. Always reaching for the light, always earning for it, always praying for it, yet never receiving it. And the light was company. Her soul had searched both shore and hill, both plains and fields, and none of kin could be found. Though the forest was full of animals life, it felt empty, unused, like wood without a kindle. It possessed the very loneliness she herself had.

Kiari acted on an impulse of emotion. Stretching forth her neck and lowering her mighty crown, maw parted, breath condensing in the air before her. A cloud of death hovering in the air before being consumed by the mist created by the warm air and frigid snow. The low rumbling barritone rose up the scale, windy and lonesome. The call of her most feared mare echoed back to her... and her voice varied in tone and force, sometimes a melodic hum of inquiry, other times a pounding bellow that rumbled like thunder. She summed up her call by raising her voice to the highest note possible, the windy scream of an indignant equine.

Yes, Kiair was here, alone and announcing her presence to all. She wanted privacy and her own life devoid of other contact, but with a song such as that, there would either be a reply or an appearance.

Stupid... impulsive... foal.

[Kindred Blue]

p r o c t o r
violet sky.

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The forest seemed almost inviting to the glittering eyes of said stallion, and so Proctor drew close to it, as if attracted like a magnet. The grey-blue creature dared to move closer and closer, taking his time, as if the adventure would be ruined by a sudden rush. It was like having chocolate in your mouth but not being allowed to eat it all; a sweet temptation where the best must be saved for last. But willpower was not a strong point, and finally the stallion gave in, breaking into a light gallop as he crashed into the forest.

It was dar within, to say the most, but here and there a breath of light penetrated the thick canopy overhead and brought a greater field of vision to any viewer. Proctor did not stop to see the sights, he simply ran further into the thick forest, dodging trees with amazing and practiced accuracy as his yellowy mane whipped is neck and demanded he go faster.

Picking up the pace, Proctor anrrowed his eyes and smirked, as the danger of his run became greater and more obstacles forbade him go - still, he evaded them, and left then chewing on his dust as they spat angrily; "Damned horse!"

Though he did not stop to see it, a strange bellowing noise fixated him and he pushed his ears foreward with a look of interest, and he gazed sideways to see a blur of a creature - it seemed that he had raced right past the perpertrator, the one who dared disturb the beauty of the scene (for of course Proctor did not see his own violent run as any disturbance at all). The handsome stallion made a quick turn, spinning at a right angle but never slowing - then another right angle turn, and there she was.

Proctor drew close to her, but slowed his pace now to a quiet trot. He snorted lightly and tossed his head as he watched her, wondering if she had even meant to recieve a reply, or if she had meant to alert others to her presence. The way she stood did not hint that she wanted company, and her choice of setting did not give any inclination that she wished to ahve some stallion pick her up and take her to his herd. So why, he wondered, why was she here, and why did she bellow so?

A thin smile grazed his jaw. "Lovely set of pipes you have there." He joked lightly, his darkly vague green eyes never leaving her own. She seemed intruiging, and Proctor never was one to let a mystery go unsolved.

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