» it’s a broken dream

[truth]

Daggers clashed upon the sand of the shore as the stag emerged from the waters of the main land. Paper thins flared as a snort left his nostrils, a mere sound against the crashing of the waves, of which still lapped at his ebonite daggers. Chocolate mirrors danced over the sights of which he could see only a few from where he stood, the tip of his frontal left dagger digging into the grains of sand beneath his bodice. Skull rotated upon his nape, catching the objects on the isle where he was, and looking them over, but had they a colour? This is one thing the stag did not know.

Adrastos removed himself from the relaxed position he had been in, and allowed his daggers to take him across the sand. Was this land claimed? Yes, of course, the scents on the wind told him that. It was a beautiful place; as beautiful as it could get to a colour blind stag. Oh, woe is he who cannot see the colours that make a place more wondrous. A soft whinny escaped the vocals of the heavily dappled stag, though he did not realize it until he brought himself to his senses. “Have thee not dealt with a stag such as I..” Adrastos’ soft lyrics stopped when he felt his shoulder twitch under his mottled pelt. Why he had chosen those words to speak was beyond him – yes, even he, the speaker. A deeper neigh rumbled from his vocals, as if in apology to his lyrics, which were spoken into the wind and carried away.

Yet another sound was emitted from Adrastos – a calling for the lead stag, or femme, so that he could, possibly, gain a place within their ranks and stay upon this land, of which he thought was beauteous in his own colourless way. No emotion toyed on his facade, of which was probably the only little dappled spot on his entire bodice, which was normal for Adrastos. Not a shimmer of empathy shone in his mirrors – again, this was normal for Adrastos. He waited patiently, tan tresses of his mane resting on the side of his gracefully arched nape, though a soft wind blew it unto the other side. He didn’t bother with replacing it to the other side, where it belonged, as he knew it would only return.


[ ooc. ohmy, so short. really sorry, i suck at intro posts. ]

[Meg]

Windago.
Oh, but I'm afraid that I,
Well I may have faked it.
And I wouldn't be caught dead in this place.

As the wind blew, a scent floated in the winds to the charming prince of these lands. Since the land was burning with flames; horses had come like flies to his peaceful, once quiet little island. Words floated to his auds; "Have thee not dealt with a stag such as I..” Anger flooded Windago's eyes. Stags recently thought they could march into his lands and think they could take him on for his family and home. No. Then his auds picked up a soft apoligy that was in a soft sound of a deep neigh. Aww, someone that was decent and didn't think they could march in, they were someone Windago now was interested in meeting. An even deeper neigh broke lose from his bass baratones and echoed out to him, telling him that Windago will be there in a moment. Hop-stepping over the large river that flowed through the woods of the Isle, Windago stepped onto the soft sands and marched out to the new steed.

Nickering softly as he forced himself into a perfected trot that his father had forced onto him on a young age. Shoulders straight and tall, tail arched, boa bent, and feathers swishing on his dinner plate sized hooves; he looked like a horse that a knight in shining armour would come and rescue the fair maiden from the dragon on. He was at least 18 hh.s and completely pure black in color. He had a shining coat with a mass of hair that poured from his thick, muscular neck and curled and danced down to his powerful chest. He was an eye full for a mare, and he was a danger to a stag. Though, in reality, he was the sweetest, gentlest and most understanding stag in the lands. Teddy Bear, horses of the mainland called him when they saw his glistening hide and strength.

Stomping on the brakes, he waited a moment, studing the steed. Finally he picked up his pace and stopped before the steed. He looked at the steed with a watchful, yet gleeful eye. This was an andulisan(sp?) the first to enter his lands. He had a dashing dappled coat and muscles that rippled over his sinew, a good steed. But what did he want?

Stretching his skull out, he touched mugs with the steed, exchanging scents with him before pulling back and raising his skull above the steed's, basicly telling him without words that he was the King here. His silvery brown eyes looked over the steed still, just judging him. Something Windago had picked up from the gossiping mares of his herd, a bad habit. Once he noticed that he was judging the steed, he felt bad and put a generous grin on his mug. Bowing to him in greeting, deep baratones filled the air from his chest;

"Greetings, steed. I'd be Windago. What is your business upon this fair lands?"

He asked softly, but not to softly to be not heard. But not to loudly to seem dominate...Well you get what I mean. He nickered softly, and waited patiently for the reasponse.