Post by stitchedskull on Mar 31, 2006 21:16:34 GMT -5
Light fled as the sun hid it's beaming feave behind the solid horizon of navy. The abiss was still streaked with greens, oranges and goldens, but they were darkening to a grey as night stalked on light's heels, preparing it's twelve hour reign over the lands. The palmtrees caressed each out, hushing the world into an errie still, but the waves remained rebelios, continuing to churn the pale sands, beating upon the earth it ruled over in unquestioned force. Muzzle was pointed out to sea, amber pools watching the night slaughter day. A heavy sigh dropped him to his knees, sending a small spray of sand into the air to seetle back around his bulk.
The crania tucked into the warmth his crooked stilts and round belly provided, as well as the feathered banner that lay over the smooth curve of his huanches. His brain wheeled behind the white blaze, draining him of all physical energy. Never had he felt so.... different. His whole life he was content, or so he thought, living alone and leading a life of total freedom, doing and going as he wished. Not living under a Lord, nor living above a herd. Drift Wood was as his name told. Drifing. Drifting as the waves lead him, not fighting and letting things happen. In a herd, with others, he had been constrained. If he wished to climb a mountain, how could he do it if his herd was unable? If his Lord said no? If his friend was crippled? It crippled him too, and so his life had been of solitude. Hate for equestrians was not the reason, not nearly. He loved the company of others, just he wished to go when he wished.
But now... now he wished differently. Still unsure what he wanted, he stole away to a small corner of the beach and nestled down on the edge of the shore. Closing his pools, to let the black soak through his bones, he cleared his mind, and let it refill slowly. Had the bronc been better with his emotions, this would have been much easier, for what he suffered was something like chickenpoxs. We all get it at least once.
This stallion, was in love. How in love was questionable, but he was. It was the young black and white mare who recently lost her love. It was Magic whom the brute pondered over and thought over and sulked over. It wasn't her he sulked over, just the ability she had to put him in such a state of awe. Despite having met her fairly recently, he would do anything for the femmora. Realization struck him like a hard buck, but shook out the cramped confusion, and left him in shock. Love? Not posible. Not posible for a stallion of his sorts. Not a heartless, but such a wandering heart could never love, could it? Maybe, just maybe, his wandering days were over. As the clutter left his brain, he was risen to his flints in joy and made a great spray of sand and he cantered into the water, playing in the waves, screaming and yelling out to the moon as he laughed alone in the sea that finally drifted him ashore.
The crania tucked into the warmth his crooked stilts and round belly provided, as well as the feathered banner that lay over the smooth curve of his huanches. His brain wheeled behind the white blaze, draining him of all physical energy. Never had he felt so.... different. His whole life he was content, or so he thought, living alone and leading a life of total freedom, doing and going as he wished. Not living under a Lord, nor living above a herd. Drift Wood was as his name told. Drifing. Drifting as the waves lead him, not fighting and letting things happen. In a herd, with others, he had been constrained. If he wished to climb a mountain, how could he do it if his herd was unable? If his Lord said no? If his friend was crippled? It crippled him too, and so his life had been of solitude. Hate for equestrians was not the reason, not nearly. He loved the company of others, just he wished to go when he wished.
But now... now he wished differently. Still unsure what he wanted, he stole away to a small corner of the beach and nestled down on the edge of the shore. Closing his pools, to let the black soak through his bones, he cleared his mind, and let it refill slowly. Had the bronc been better with his emotions, this would have been much easier, for what he suffered was something like chickenpoxs. We all get it at least once.
This stallion, was in love. How in love was questionable, but he was. It was the young black and white mare who recently lost her love. It was Magic whom the brute pondered over and thought over and sulked over. It wasn't her he sulked over, just the ability she had to put him in such a state of awe. Despite having met her fairly recently, he would do anything for the femmora. Realization struck him like a hard buck, but shook out the cramped confusion, and left him in shock. Love? Not posible. Not posible for a stallion of his sorts. Not a heartless, but such a wandering heart could never love, could it? Maybe, just maybe, his wandering days were over. As the clutter left his brain, he was risen to his flints in joy and made a great spray of sand and he cantered into the water, playing in the waves, screaming and yelling out to the moon as he laughed alone in the sea that finally drifted him ashore.
