07-10-2015, 01:13 PM
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<p><p align="left">((is it okay to have fight take place in silver cove??I was just going to pick up where we left off.))
The man-mare taunts her, steps between the roan and herself, responds to Killgore's insanity with coarse words. <font color="#C41852"><b>" If it is born without traits, she'll hope that I had."</b></font>she snaps back, regarding the warlander's questions of child safety. Her retorts short, and I'll tempered.<font color="#C41852"><b>"You speak of his children so highly, yet you spurn your own."</b></font>Her brow furrowed as she spoke, a snort closing her statement.
So the buckskin had wanted a fight? No, matter to her, she would not be cowed by the other. She pulled forward into the wet, packed sand left by the lowering tide. The compressed earth would be more forgiving than the loose grains that had dried. She approached with intent to keep Branka in the shallows, an attempt to tire the thickly built she-beast. A contrasting form from Killgore's more supple build. While she had friesian aspects to her appearance, she favored the lithe dancers legs of her warmblood mother. She knew she would not be able to use her size in this battle, the buckskin was a full head taller than she, and more robust.
She initiated the fight with a display of acceptance, an onyx hoof scraping at the earth. A scream launched from her voicebox, gathering air into a shrill note from her diaphragm. The bay bounded to the left, rising up and falling in an arch to the seaside sands, her ears laced. A common display of dominance that opened a fight between two feral equine.Calls came flowing from her darkened maw, as she lurched forward from a rear. Careful to not enroach into the water, twin pillars swiping the air, before gravity again takes her. Ivories reach out from her forwardly thrusted dial, her kissers pulled back past her gumline. Her jaw was open wide seeking a connection before she again would meet the ground.
She would have to keep moving, a roaming target not quite the easiest to strike. The light skinned mare would have her size as an advantage, so Killgore worked her feet.</p>
<center><img src="http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLjc1MjkzYy5TMmxzYkdkdmNtVSwuMA,,/pink-bazooka.regular.png"></center>
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<div style="background-color:#F7FCCD; color:#770239; padding-top:10px;padding-right:10px;padding-left:10px;padding-bottom:10px;width:450px;">
<center><img src="http://i797.photobucket.com/albums/yy258/tbiter/Mobile%20Uploads/3116bc29b61ee5bc13b296bec928367f-1_zpslcvpvw6k.jpg"; padding:5px;5px;5px;5px;"></img></center>
<p><p align="left">((is it okay to have fight take place in silver cove??I was just going to pick up where we left off.))
The man-mare taunts her, steps between the roan and herself, responds to Killgore's insanity with coarse words. <font color="#C41852"><b>" If it is born without traits, she'll hope that I had."</b></font>she snaps back, regarding the warlander's questions of child safety. Her retorts short, and I'll tempered.<font color="#C41852"><b>"You speak of his children so highly, yet you spurn your own."</b></font>Her brow furrowed as she spoke, a snort closing her statement.
So the buckskin had wanted a fight? No, matter to her, she would not be cowed by the other. She pulled forward into the wet, packed sand left by the lowering tide. The compressed earth would be more forgiving than the loose grains that had dried. She approached with intent to keep Branka in the shallows, an attempt to tire the thickly built she-beast. A contrasting form from Killgore's more supple build. While she had friesian aspects to her appearance, she favored the lithe dancers legs of her warmblood mother. She knew she would not be able to use her size in this battle, the buckskin was a full head taller than she, and more robust.
She initiated the fight with a display of acceptance, an onyx hoof scraping at the earth. A scream launched from her voicebox, gathering air into a shrill note from her diaphragm. The bay bounded to the left, rising up and falling in an arch to the seaside sands, her ears laced. A common display of dominance that opened a fight between two feral equine.Calls came flowing from her darkened maw, as she lurched forward from a rear. Careful to not enroach into the water, twin pillars swiping the air, before gravity again takes her. Ivories reach out from her forwardly thrusted dial, her kissers pulled back past her gumline. Her jaw was open wide seeking a connection before she again would meet the ground.
She would have to keep moving, a roaming target not quite the easiest to strike. The light skinned mare would have her size as an advantage, so Killgore worked her feet.</p>
<center><img src="http://txt-dynamic.static.1001fonts.net/txt/dHRmLjcyLjc1MjkzYy5TMmxzYkdkdmNtVSwuMA,,/pink-bazooka.regular.png"></center>
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