I'm, your everlasting l o n g i n g.

[r.andom]

She, this creature one could only describe as a warrior, was proud, strong. It was defined in her every smooth, easy step, the proud, noble crest and arch of her neck, every small ripple in her dark skin. Oh, this creation was of the otherworld, beautiful – darkly so, menace sloughing off her skin in every step she took. No, this woman figure was not one to be messed with, never one to be messed with, she brought fear into the eyes of the devil (and this was not exaggerating, o no, although I wish it was so). This mare, she was whole, for although a warmonger not a single scar dared tread upon her dark skin, save the whispers, the ghosts of those long past their time, and even those were no longer moonbeam, no longer noticeable.

Aaliya, this was her name, and she was striking in appearance. Alas, she knew of how it was breeding season, she knew the dangers of such a time, but she walked smoothly, silky soft, curls of fine coal mane rustling on her thick neck. Her barrel was curved, o so gently with virginity well-settled into her body. But her eyes, they were confident, calm. Stallions turned, they watched her move lightly into the field, elongated, slim legs built up with muscle earned from her past. She cared little for them, her fine hips swaying dangerously. Aaliya knew, she knew of this scum that were rapists, but she cared not for them, for they were nothing.

Oh, to see this dark mare, swan-like in her way, moving into the field. She was stunning, chaste, untouched by stallion or mare in any way, yet beneath this surface, this attractive exterior she was perilous, dangerous – for were not swans like this? Swans, they were beautiful as much as she, gliding smoothly – harmless-looking, but it was truth and truth only that they could kill a man. And so with Silent, soldier mare, shield maiden. Beneath her hooves lay a crisp red-gold carpet, for autumn was beautiful yet cheerless, and she Aaliya, warmonger, she saw this place with what could only be described as disgust, moving with a passion and a fire in her eye, and casually raising just a single hoof as stallions move up behind her. They shy, and she snorts, turning her dominantly raised neck with a smug look of contempt lingering across well-defined features.

Alas, Aaliya knows how she torments these boys with their passion, their fire, their lust to climb atop her back as though she were a toy, and she teases with it, ever moving o so softly like a panther. She released a haunting chorus of delicate notes.Vocals calm and smooth,hinted livid coldness just bursting to come out. As she haulted momentarily waiting for the next scene her story of a life.

[ Am I the your next d i s t r u c t i o n? ]

ooc ll Strangly long post.

[Moonfire]

Death is everlasting, the world seems to dance around it. no one can stop it, no matter what they try. It just keeps coming back. It sings in your mind,haunting you forever. It refeals you your deepest secrets,it lives only to kill. It's not a laughing matter,you would be stupid to laugh at it. Not even a dark would ever laugh at this cruel thing.

Atrox seemed hidden in the shadows,casting a odd feeling in the area. Making ones coat tingle and spin shiver. His shadow eeerie as it moved around her. His hooves soft,so that not a sound was heard.

Oh,such a season. His favourite. Breeding season. The pain, hatred, love, anger and pleasure. Though he felt no love,the pleasure was something he enjoyed. His coat against hers,his flesh against hers. Oh,he needed her. Needed the enoyment. He yearned it.

She looked like such a kitten,one to play with. One that he would enjoy to toy with.

Hello,kitten he spoke. He had examined her enough,and saw the she seemed fun. What might you be doing here,fun,naa,a home. Maybe he trotted around her,circling her. His banner against her rump and wither.

OOC||Your post makes mine look like one liners.

[r.andom]

Passion is hers, as is lust and other small feelings of curiosity and hate, desire and wonderment, and she watches this daily routine of life and limb, survival of the fittest with a dark eye and a sceptical mind, for she has no want to be what they do, he has no want to be labelled as different for she sees nought wrong with the typecast world. She has shaped the mould and they have come out of it and reformed themselves – and Aaliya cares not for such strange talents and fetishes to be different. The painted mare is in no way elaborate in her manner –she is rough and unrushed in actions and words, and they will get used to it or simply hate her for it.

As the brute approched, a smirk danced on her lips, Aaliya peered at him through tangled locks of ashen coal. Took him long enough, was the thought that ran through her mind many time before her reply. "Well, Arn't you just the character, and just who might you be?" The maligned humor evident in her complex optics, as she ignored his question.

[Moonfire]

He smirked, his form moved towards her. Ahh,thick-headed? he mocked her,tossing his tail. His optics searched hers, lust and elagence. A smirk crossed his lips again, teasing her. She ignored him, wich didnt suprise him. All dark mares had to be hard-headed. It was the way of life.

Atrox smiled,baring white enamles. What you have here is Atrox he didnt bother to add that he was a king, it wasnt needed to impress.

[r.andom]

She is no butterfly, no crimson butterfly leading the souls of the dead to Heaven or Hell, no fluttering creature of paper-winged elegance and lumbering intelligence. She is something finer-strung, greater than that, untouched by thistle or thorn as her hide is impenetrable. She is of roses and blood, lust and desire and freedom wrapped up into one, warped, riddled with energy and power, embracing the wildness wound into veins of cold, hard steel - she is a spider web of mystery and tantalisation, she is what is horse, what horses used to be. Aaliya is something greater, something colder, smoother, darker than your average mare – she is what there used to be but is no longer. Oh, she is the one that will rip away those paper wings and learn to fly without.

Smirking, she parted her kissers. "Aaliya." she paused momentarily to rip at the green vegitation. "And, I'm not the thick headed one." she replied cold gaze staring back at his.

[Moonfire]

He laughed,she was getting annoyed at him. Oh,your not thick-headed? Well,I can hardly believ my ears1 he mocked again,snorting.

[v]Very well,Aliyah..would you like to join my herd

[/b] he hissed,he would rather force her but this was not the place for such a thing. Tsk,tsk. Sad,Atrox wished this was. He didnt need any mares thinking they could boss him like that. [/color][/center]

[r.andom]

Oh, spider-spun misfortune upon them all he brings, for Aaliya is no daylight to your darkness, she will simply amplify it, make it resound about the empty walls of the dungeon you’re trapped in – she is murderous, torturous, manipulative, for she likes to play games with the mind, likes to toy with them, as a cat with a mouse before it kills the prey. He, Altrox, of much the same as she, seductive, sweetling, so darling and innocent – but beneath it all? A monster, a monstrosity – it depicted her, at least.

She snorted, quietened as he watched her, the dark of her eyes deadpan still but alluring with a sense of foreboding coming from the very air about her, the tension in the atmosphere. Her eyes searched his; found the dreadful jet-black of him and her lips curled, snowy-white, to place a slight nip upon his skin. Oh, it seemed such a delicate thing, that touch of tooth and velvet and flesh, but really she was monstrous, outcast, and the monstrosity was testing her new toy. Prancing of, banner wavering in the ever fading light she smirked. "Sure."

[Moonfire]

He watched the painted figure,she was more like a painting with a mind of its own. He nipped at her whither,moving upwards toward her neck and back. His black form moved around her,brushing against her body. His flesh against hers. Oh,such a feeling. This one ripped at you,ripped until there was nothing more to rip.

Good

A short reply,but fun was on his mind. Call him crazed,he would care. Werent all darks crazed? He smirked,nudging her flank and rump,moving towards her neck. He nipped at her rump,softly,though hard enough to feel like a pinch. Atrox nipped her flank,then her wither,giving a last nip at her neck.

[r.andom]

Her features remain expressionless and lackadaisical, her face marble and her beetle-black eyes as cold as ever. There is something about him that makes her seem tense and ready to flee, some age-old, ancient, archaic instinct that comes into play whenever she sees him, and this she understands. Aaliya is predatory, stately, majestic, arrogant and cruel – the epitome of sadistic manliness and stereotypical evilness. It shows in her eyes, her stature, her very aura and the way she moves, and she sees this in him as well and instinctively fear comes to her, of something of that sort for this reason.

And the cold, emotionless mare watched her with an indifference that was frightening or unsettling in the least; let her eyes wonder over Altrox. His touch could become so soft, so sensitive, so malicious with very few, and even then he plucked at flesh with his teeth in such a delicate manner, placed a nip to their hide and watched the thin trickle of blood flow, and he cared not. Aaliya watched him with a malice that had always been there, her neck beginning to form into a arch ”No need to push.” said the painted figure as she picked up a 3-beat, but to only come around in a circle behind him”I'll go at my pace…”

[Moonfire]

Such fire,such power. smething that all could deisre! Distruction to what little passion he had. It was a good thing,now he didnt need o think of his past.
Her flesh,cold against his own cold flesh. Her aura,as black as his. It made him feel,challenged.
He followed her,watching her arch her neck. Did I say i was rushing? Sorry if it seemed so he mocked. He couldnt be so nice,it was ussualy mock. You can go at your pace,it doesnt matter to me his voice lethal and deadly. Pistols that shot until you fell over,eyes wide in fear and pain. He would go at her pace,she wanted it. He treated his mares with respect,they gave his kin life. Atrox should respect them.
Atrox moved around her,if her pace was slow,then they should get going home. Well, would you like to to home? he asked,gazing over her again. She seemed to challeng him,and he smirked at it.
Lifeless eyes scanned,This way he trotted in circles and walked towards an outing. There,he would easily see home.

[r.andom]

ooc ll I'm gonna post there.