Post by Annie on Dec 27, 2007 11:23:56 GMT -5
P H O E N I X
Care to try?
Care to try?
>> The oceans lapped calmly against the shore. The birds had long left for the winter and the frigid air kept many other inhabitants from coming out of their warm burrows. But the quiet, calm effect was broken by the sound of something treading through water quite loudly. The rubicund belle walked from ice waters of the ocean, having been walking in the shallows, her smoothly curved serpentine arched elegantly, which accentuated the neck muscles so they could be seen quite well. Her small teacup nares were flared wide as she snorted. She was surprisingly small, even for her breed, Arabian which could be seen in the elegant dip of her crown. She picked up her long, slim stilts high, placing them down with a defiant splash in the water. Her drenched crimson banner was flicking back and forth, flinging water droplets over her soaked carcass. The shallows it may have been, but her anger had led to a fit, causing her whole body to eventually end up soaked, and yet, hypothermia had not yet set it icy claws on the jezebelle. Her chest was wide and heart girth deep, making her a horse with speed to fear. But her slender and almost innocent looks made her one of beauty and young innocence, but innocent was far from this minxette. Her hide, though still wet, was marked by old and fresh wounds. The marks ran in bloody, long, and jagged welts along her back, neck and hindquarters, criss crossing in some places. And though they had been washed off with the water, the blood continued to pool on the surface of the deep horse-made marks. Though they were obviously painful, they didn't seem to bother the creature, who had a vexed shine in her deep, endless light caramel pools, which were rather seducing, seeing as brown eyes of such a light color as hers in a horse were quite rare. The deep boundries of the shiney lampets could easily capture a single gladiator foolish enough to gaze into them longer than needed.
>> The wounds along her backside cleverly drew attention away from the scars covering her hide, but they did nothing to stop someone's attention from venturing to the massive knot of scars on the front side of her left shoulder. They were deep and pale, quite old and yet, they had not faded one bit as most scars due with age. They were too massive to have been caused by a wolf or another horse(unless you counted she obtained them when a foal and by many horses). That left one option, cougar, meaning this mare was far from her home. Cougars didn't often attack horses in Mystic Falls, even if they were foals, they were wise enough to stay away, knowing that sooner or later, they'd have painful marks on their bodies to remind them if they were not dead. One could only guess she had gotten her fresh wounds from a roving young horse, one looking to have a good time. But she had left the one responsible for her own wounds licking his own injuries like a sick dog with an injured pride to boot. Her lips were pulled back in a lupine snarl, showing off her white, deadly enamels, and clearly stating she was a mare of a foul attitude. 'If only they knew,' she snorted, the thought racing across her agitated mind. Fury flashed in her odd, light mocha pools at remembering how close the gladiator had come this time to being successful. The thought that she might be loosing her touch made her blood boil, and, being unable to contain her anger. She stabbed the earth savagely with both front pillars until she rocked back on her impressivly built haunches, trumpeting her rage and fustration aloud. She came down heavily, not bothering to be graceful like she normally was, she was too angry to care. Snorting, flints jabbed the earth angrily as her momentum picked up, soon swinging into a long legged sprint. Her nares were wide as she sucked in air, thorns perked forward eagerly. She was stretched out low over the ground, daggers pounding against the snow heavily, her snorts of pleasure escaping every seventh or eighth stride. Her belly was soon wet with the melted ice and yet still, in her jubilation, she had not yet truly felt the coldness of the air.
>> Her tassle flowed out behind her and her pelt, now dried, was a marvelous and brillant scarlet, the color of freshly spilled blood. Her mane and tail were silky and a deep burgandy at the roots, quickly lightening up to a soft, creamy flaxen at the tips. The only disturbance among her pelt was the moon-kissed star on her forehead, large and surround by a darker ring of color, making her small crown seem even more petite than normal. She felt boundless when running, like she could run forever and never get enough. She loved the feeling of the air flowing through her long silky mane that came close to reaching the bottom of her shoulder. She loved how running made her feel weightless and how it lifted her tail that barely touched the ground into the air. She loved everything about running. It was her life, her freedom, the essence that made her live on when she had nothing in this world. To bad she didn't know that that was going to change very soon. But right now, all her attention was put to the task at hand, running with all her heart and soul until she reached her destination. She noticed with sadness weighing her heart, that her planned address was close at hand. She slowed to a rocking lope, lifting her crown high and bringing her pillars close and high off ground so she seemed almost prancing, the tiny grains of sand flying with her strides.
>> Her harks perked forward at seeng a leaning palm tree. Yes, the far from the boundries of Windmere, right in the center of the territory, was her current home. She wasn't a mare to go to the lands of Bernfried and await someone to come to her. Phoenix was proud to say that she was a lone wolf among the equines and had earned a name in her homeland because of that. She had seen little to no equines in her stretch of the Windmere, the place were she had lived untouched and bother for the past two months unless she went out looking for trouble, and having met with none, for once her guard was down. She slowed down reluctantly as she reached the tight cluster of palm trees and ferns, disappearing into the ring of foliage. She gave a shake of her body, flicking her whipcord disheartedly. It was small, but the trees, nearly dead from the cold, blocked enough of the wind to make her happy. Phoenix gave a shake of her petite dial, her forelock obscuring her optics. Phoenix cast one look around through the silky thin tresses and satisfied she was alone, she dropped her head, turning her muscled hindquarters to the wind. Her hot breath fogged the frigid air. Even in her sheltered abode, it was cold. Before, she had not noticed the temperature, but now that she was no longer moving, she felt the bite of the air. Her thin coat offered little protection from the elements so Phoenix normally disappeared during winter because she could never really grow a thick winter coat, so like the birds, she fled for the season. But this time she stayed, an unknown force had made her. Now she wondered if it was worth as she shivered, standing in the sand and snow mixture of slush, staring at the ground through half-lidded eyes. Phoenix twitched her shoulder muscles, wincing lightly when her bad shoulder protested. 'Another reason I don't normally stay in cold weather, this damn wound always hurts like fricking hell. I still don't think it's fully healed, I wouldn't be surprised, it was him who did it after all,' she thought grimly, instantly sinking into the memories of her past.