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Post by Moonfire on Aug 15, 2006 14:24:52 GMT -5
The world evolves around her,dont tell her else. She qiuet the fussy mare,spoiled in other ways. wants what she wants. Ankatari has a loving heart though,she always seems to know what to say.
Ankatari trotted in,her breathing calm and steady. Her muscular legs carried her swiftly,waisting no time. She didnt like this season,the pain. It couldnt be pleasure?
Who ever wishes a mare,may claim me she whispered it,as if wishing no one could her here. They could smell her though,her aroma wafted,even though she tried to stop it.
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Post by voodoo on Aug 15, 2006 14:31:24 GMT -5
Mourn struck the land heavy large pillars draged his rugged bod through to the outskirt. His hawk orbs scaned. His nares flared wide her aroam struck him. Orbs widned and smirk formed.
His pillars draged his bod once more faster this time. He arrived in her presance and nodded swiftly. Hoofs took to a halt and he snorted slightly shifting his weight he waited |
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Post by Moonfire on Aug 15, 2006 14:43:06 GMT -5
She looked at him,rolling her optics. Hello she said,tossing her head. A smile formed her lips,as she waited a reply.
I want this over with she mumbled,her auds perked.
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Post by r.andom on Aug 15, 2006 14:46:50 GMT -5
Carelessness is not in the nature of him, the powerful, dominant stallion that moves with the grace of snakes and remains hunter of the hunted through rain or shine. Evil is his nature, pure and deceitful and he will not and cares not to deny this although maybe he will to some mare where the contest is between lights and darks and she prefers light. He knows he is untouched, feral in his loathing that most stereotype evils (what stereotype evils? They have all gone and in their place there are the ones who are different, the ones who think it is wrong to be stereotype, although now they have formed a simple new type of such a thing, and have left the old stereotypes to be normal in their haste to be un-stereotypical) do for what they see as light, and he is pitiless and ruthless to them.
Watching the wrentch he smirked. Picking up a 3-beat be made his way over to her, not even glacing at the other brute. "Hello there, poppet." lyrics cold and chilling as he let his maw trace the line of her back.
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Post by voodoo on Aug 15, 2006 14:47:45 GMT -5
He nodded once more to her
Lo
Stud shook his pan and watched her finding her uncofortable
you seem out of place.
He looked at her and tilled his head slightly.
He looked at the other brute orbs burned at the bod of his rival orbs narrowed and he shook his head.
Mourn would get the mare no matter what. |
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Post by Moonfire on Aug 15, 2006 17:02:27 GMT -5
Lips curled back,the second brutes velvets touched her skeletal form. It felt nice, something that wasnt harming her. She lowered her head a little,letting out a soft groan.
Hello she said to Forgotten and turned to Mourn.
Out of place? I hope not she didnt seem worried,more of a tease really.
She shook,Forgotten hadnt won her,not yet. They both had a chance,it was just who striked first. She mived away from forgotten, probably making it more comfortable for Mourn.
silence sliced like a knive,her gaze glassy,a mirror. She trotted around the two, making sure to let out her scent once near one of them. She gave a slight giggle and kicked out,tossing her bay head.
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Post by r.andom on Aug 15, 2006 17:17:22 GMT -5
And the cold, emotionless stallion watched her with an indifference that was frightening or unsettling in the least; let his eyes sway and dance over the vigorous and seductive curves of her body and the roughly-cut wildness which she brought with her. 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. Forgotten watched her with a malice that had always been there, his neck remaining in the arch ”Your name?.” he ran his muzzle down the curve of her neck again ”Mines Forgotten…”
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Post by Moonfire on Aug 15, 2006 17:42:48 GMT -5
She turned again to Forgotten, a smile on her velvet lips. Ankatrai,Katari for short she said. She could feel the slight trickle of damp blood n her back,but ignored it. It did hurt,it wasnt bothering her.
Ankatari looked around,blinking. The silence again,why werent these stags talkative?
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Post by voodoo on Aug 15, 2006 18:11:21 GMT -5
Mourn snorted as he crept closer to her dial but did not touch her...
I'm mourn
He snorted. He nosed her softly.
Such a beutiful name suites you
He eyed the brutes, then watched the wench softly.
His nares took in her sweet aroma.
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Post by Moonfire on Aug 15, 2006 19:46:34 GMT -5
His nuzzle as soft as,maybe even softer,maybe harder then forgotten's.
I'v been told that
she gave a sweet laugh,though the black stained it,making it seem almost cruel.
She moved from the two,letting her aroma spill a bit more befor stopping it.
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Post by r.andom on Aug 16, 2006 6:20:38 GMT -5
Forgotten was a birthplace of disease. A breeding ground of terrible and misconstrued things that go bump in the night and make your skin crawl. He is what nightmares are made of. So many other evils claim to be the thing makes you scared, makes you want to run or scream or not sure what you want to do. But Forgotten didn't have to make himself - he just was.
Watching the wrench his smirk deeped. Seducive little, b**ch wasn't she... Tis, tis he'd just have to fix that. "My guess is that you do not reside anywhere." his words not much of a question really.
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Post by Moonfire on Aug 16, 2006 8:42:38 GMT -5
Ankatari was not dark,but she knew how dark she could becom. She was sweet,only when needed.
She trotted around again, tossing her head. I guess your right. A blank reply,feelingless.
she wasnt needed to have feelings,in what she said and what she did at the moment.
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Post by r.andom on Aug 18, 2006 7:34:39 GMT -5
[ f o r g o t t e n ] Passion is his, as is lust and other small feelings of curiosity and hate, desire and wonderment, and he watches this daily routine of life and limb, survival of the fittest with a dark eye and a sceptical mind, for he has no want to be what they do, he has no want to be labelled as different for he sees nought wrong with the typecast world. He has shaped the mould and they have come out of it and reformed themselves – and Forgotten cares not for such strange talents and fetishes to be different. The white stallion is in no way elaborate in his manner – he is rough and unrushed in actions and words, and they will get used to it or simply hate him for it.
Smirking, his kissers parted. "Would you care to join Silver Creek?" |
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Post by Moonfire on Aug 18, 2006 8:22:44 GMT -5
bzShe sighed almost,walking around again of boredom.
Ankatari's ears swivled and pricked," Join your herd...I suppose so" she smirked.
She looked at Mourn,her tail flicked. "Sorry" she said simply.
She walked toward Forgotten,snorting.
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Post by r.andom on Aug 19, 2006 10:17:26 GMT -5
ooc ll Post in the thread called; My new [ t o y ]. ^.^
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