.new beginning

[Meg]

.apollos
walking in his shoes for a lifetime.

A king, a lord, a knight, a solider, & a gentleman.
Five words his father was always known as. Will his legacy ever grow up to put on the same armour his father wore? If he tried hard enough, could he fullfill his father's wishes and dreams that his father didn't have enough time to do? Would he ever be able to fill the footprints of a giant with a warm heart?

Tall and lanky fit the discription of the mirror image of Windago's only son. He was broad, but not quite of proportion yet, for he was only of three years. He had a scraggly mane that barely reached the end of his neck; not quite as full and beautiful as his fathers'. He did hold his body the same way Windago did, tall and proud. But he wasn't his father. Most of the mares on the isle often called out to Windago when they saw him, but only because they were old mares; their minds not quite strong enough to remember their leader had died in the harsh weather of winter. He had the same gentle, dark eyes; but there was more mischeif and playfulness in them. Truth be told, this young stag was given a crown too young of an age, for he still wished to roam. Now he was forced to settle in these lands that his father had harvested. His nares flared out in a sigh.

Apollos was a handsome young stag; either well he was tall and lanky, he still was quite handsome for his age. He got his looks from his father, and there was promise that he would one day be as strong and mighty as his father. He knew he had large footprints to fill, it would be indeed harder then most thought it would be. As the young stag strolled along the beach, observing the land he frolicked on since he was young with his mother and father, he now realized he owned it. With a squeaky, not quite mature nicker, he kicked out his hind flints and skipped about the beach with baby nickers filling the air; like laughter. He dropped to the ground and rolled about on his back, waving and kicking his legs in the air. After he had his fun, he snorted and rolled to his chest.

Looking out over the sand, he spotted many prints left in the hardened sand that had frozen in the winter up by the land. He stretched out his front legs and rose up. Freeing himself of the sand that clung to him, he tossed his skin and then walked upon the sand with steady flints; until he reached the ground that he had seen. Looking down, he saw many prints left by the mares of the isle; but there was a distance between the freshly upturned sand to the old, pressed sand. A set of tiny hoof prints left by a colt that had stepped in very large hoof prints were left in still life; forever hardened in sand. Apollos went back into a day of the past, where he skipped behind his dad; trying to put each of his hooves in his fathers' prints until finally he tripped upon his nose and Windago had let out a deep chuckling laught that Apollos had tried to mimic, but only got out a squeak. Stepping forward now, he lifted a hoof and placed it in one of the ancient king's imprinted marks. He still didn't fill his father's shoes.

[elergy]

Oh, the epic elegy of my mind

The golden stretch of sand lay stretched as an awaiting canvass, to tell the tale of those who passed in a delicate, whispering dance. Capturing dagger prints, and memories. Those who loved, lost, called this realm home, and left its bountiful shores. There are many tales to tell that surround this kingdom, of damsels, and onyx knights, now a distant past, yet never to be forgotten. The world revolves, and so passes each generation, to let the next one bloom.

A generation that is twisted in the silky web that was spun by their forefathers, and those before them. Next to mark the sands of time, is an ordinary looking Appaloosa mix. Lightly gracing the earth with her finely tuned steps ‘pon dainty scythes. Only 3 years in age, but wise beyond her years. Yet it has been a turning point for our dear, twisted Elegy. For not long before had the young vix witnessed the death of her mother. So tragic. But do not be fooled, you will not see this minx falling to her knees in despair. No, that would be a waste of time, time needed for sweet revenge.

A feminine chassi glided like smoke, following the shore-line. A cream pelt, blemished with strawberry roan ‘pon her shoulders, and chocolate hued polka dots splattered all over her lithe form. Threads of midnight, highlighted with cream fell in cascading waves down slender boa, and to dainty hocks. Nape was arched high and proud, chin tucked towards chest to accentuate the perfectly defined posture and contours of the beautiful damsel.

But don’t be fooled. Her roots have been dug deeper than you might think. And I shall let you in on a little secret; this is the daughter of Oasis. The deceased Queen of the isle that fell victim to a broken heart, and old age. Elegy is the product of rape and abuse, which is sweet irony, as t’is this vix that now wishes to wreak havoc and abuse the good nature of the equines of these parts. A dastardly plan was forming in her mind. Though the dame is very good at hiding her soul from her orbs. A very important art, if you don’t want your true self to be known.

Apollos

Ran about her mind like a scuttling beetle, lest she forget the dubbance. T’was the only thing to go on.

I have other children, my darling.
Apollos, and Miracle…you have half-siblings! Please…sweetheart...be happy…find them for me.

The sweet angelic lyrics of her departed mother. Faint with the last whisper of her dieing breath. Oasis’ wish was that all her family was together, to take care of each other. Yet Elegy had other things in mind. She had the blood of Blackjack in her veins. The large Draft build was only slightly evident in her physique, but he had power of her mind.

Like a soldier, she had only one order in her mind. Find Apollos, and give what he deserves.

And the fiendish disease that pervades my body

[elergy]

(-poketh- why aren't you replying hun?)