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    COTY

    Assailant -- Year 226

    QOTY

    "But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura


    .Leave nothing but hoofprints.
    #1
    It had been a long, long time since she'd felt desperate. She'd longed for things - adventure, thrills - but never felt true desperation. At least not until now. Even along this whole exciting, terrifying, wondrous journey, she'd never felt the need for food, water or safety as much as she wanted for company now.

    She'd never admit it to anyone, but she'd been.. reckless. She really hadn't thought things through, and although she hoped it would be the best decision of her life at the moment it was the worst. At first, the excitement had kept her going - snatching sleep in places of safety, sneaking just out of sight of strange herds.

    She'd never approached one of these herds though. None of them had felt like... home. But then, what was she expecting? How could a herd of strangers be home? Now she was wishing that she had stayed around one of them a bit longer. The last two years had lent her a growing sense of loneliness, which she had dismissed at first as weak. I'll find another one. There's plenty of time. But it was grinding her down a little although she hated to admit to it.

    She was a little fed up now, and didn't fancy wandering aimlessly anymore. She was feeling dull, exasperated and grumpy. Blowing brashly through her nostrils, her spirit lifted as she bounded down a gentle, grassy slope. She sprung to a stop, snorting with her nostrils flared and eyes wide. An odd herd beneath the trees, a myriad of colours and sizes backed by a small pretty lake and tinkling waterfall. All mares? she pondered, and strode confidently into the clearing, mingling with the others, a slight smile on her lips, her eyes set like bright jewels in her dainty face.
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    #2

    He was an amazing voyeur sometimes. Blending into the background, his eyes finely tuned upon the surroundings. He watched and waited, silent and unmoving. The grey stallion had spent most of his life watching in the dark, waiting in his invisible state for something to happen, waiting for someone to actually notice him. No one did. He was certain he had spent nearly a whole year invisible, he spoke to others in this state, but many ran in fear of the ghosts that haunted their pasts. Not one acknowledged him. A year of that had become stale, made his muscles ache with boredom. His mind becoming a dull, unused machine. That was why he pushed himself through, became the demon he was right now. He terrorised others in his own little way, he tormented with tricks and a magician's show of hand.

    But no one actually stayed, no one stood and spoke, learnt things about the steed he only kept hidden.

    Like the way he had watched his mother's aging body deteriorate, and she still never let him attempt to help her. He wondered where she was now, or if she was even here. Or the way he often watched from the skyline at the throes of love, the whimsical feeling that takes hold of a heart and makes the mind think delusional things. No one knew this, no one asked him, and he did not wear his heart upon his sleeve. He wore the deadened thing deep within him, locked up, cold, unbeating.

    He'd been watching the bay mare for quite some time when he decided to make himself seen; first his head, then his neck, he slowly materialised with each waving step closer to her. the new, tantalising scent piquing his nose as he trampled the new shoots of spring grass beneath his feet. He did nothing, he said nothing, he just watched her, dark eyes trailing over her. She was intriguing, looking like she was after something a little more, interesting. He noticed things like that, sometimes. Not often, but he did catch them, like fleeting little butterflies in grubby hands, he caught them.

    ”Hello, Petal.” he acknowledged her. his voice a baritone, low, deep. he took a step forward, a few long tufts of grass tickling his fetlocks.

    ”Care for some company?” another little edge closer, another inclination of his head, a brief ruffle of his broad wings, a sharp inhale of his nostrils and he added, once more, for good measure. ”I’m Nier.”

    • tyrael x amnesia • wings, invisibility • alpha of gemstone ridge •
    html by charmx, image by james porto
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    #3
    He was feeling just as exasperated as she was.

    He wondered how much longer he would be alone for. It had been a long time, surely - all his immortal life. It was only a recent idea of his to form a herd of friendship and solidarity, where loyalty is the driving factor and perhaps even later on, together, become some kind of force to reckon with but... The dream remained with the stars, distant and unreachable.

    Someday.

    For now he soars above the Field, enjoying the feeling of the wind in his face, sweeping through his mane and ruffling through his tawny feathers. He's enjoyed flying since before he can remember, through the skies with his mother in front of him. Although his wings were bog-standard, feathered bird wings (although whenever are wings standard?) but hers were those of an angel - translucent, glowing, golden affairs that lit up her pure white coat.

    He could never live up to her standards, of course.

    Caught in his memories, he almost doesn't notice the mare as she enters the Field, and by the time he has touched down nearby, there is already a stallion nearby. He does not let this put him off, however, even as he gets closer and realises that its Nier - a stallion he has met previously, in very much similar circumstances.

    "Hello," he says, the Spanish accent softening his voice. "I'm Cezary." his dark brown eyes are warm and twinkling, and he glances to both of the horses to include them in his greeting.. "What is your name?" this, however, is said towards the mare.
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    #4
    Ynilla milled through the crowd, looking at the others. They were grazing quietly, swishing their tails against the midges which hovered about the surface of the clear lake. Sun dappled the many coat colours of her female companions, the only sound the gentle munching of the mares on the sweet spring grass and the leaves above rustling. She looked up, spotted the birds hopping silently from branch to branch, partially hidden by the lush green of the new leaves.

    A slight smile played across her velvet muzzle. She was beginning to like this place. It wasn't overbearing, there was space to be herself. She watched the birds for a while, and when she lowered her head and turned the way she'd come, something black caught her eye. She wasn't sure what it was... it was in the air... a bird? No, it had no wings... As she watched it began to grow. Curious rather than frightened she stepped towards it a few paces, head titled slightly to the side.

    Her mind didn't quite figure out what was happening until ears and a face appeared from absolutely nowhere. She squinted and then paused mid step. Her eyes grey wide and she drew back her head, her neck arching. Her ears rammed forward as the rest of this mad illusion materialized before her very eyes - the spectacle was strange enough until wings gradually shimmered into existence. Then she knew she really was crazy.

    She hesitated, then took another step forward, waiting. She looked the stallion all the way over - felt a shiver of excitement down to her hooves. She still didn't quite believe that this shimmering, greying buckskin stallion, with his proud, powerful wings was really there. Maybe she'd not eaten enough. Or maybe she was just tired. Or maybe...She didn't react like other horses would. Her sense of adventure led her to not see the whole picture - a magical stallion with wings appearing from thin air? Any other horse would have legged it minutes ago. But she saw something new, exciting, a challenge and an adventure.

    When her visitor approached and actually spoke, it somehow made him all the more real. He'd called her 'petal', and asked if she would like his company. She hesitated, looking back over her delicate shoulder. None of the other mares had looked up or headed over to them.

    "Me?" She asked. She was used enough to plenty of male attention, but it didn't seem like this stallion was quite like that. Or was he? She wasn't sure, but it seemed like he was important in some way. She couldn't quite put her finger on it. "I hope so" she she smiled, looking at him from under her eyelashes. "I've been hoping for some company, and I think you might just be the kind of horse I could get along with".

    As she watched him and waited for his reply a dark shadow fell over the ground, moving quickly. The sound of rustling came from above as if a great bird was circling over head, or swooping down to snatch up it's prey. She whipped up her head to see a dark silhouette, and squinted against the warm sun. As it dropped closer to the ground and away from the bright sky, she made out the clear shape of a horse, distinct feathered wings bracing as he set down gracefully behind Nier.

    His coat almost glowed golden his black mane and tail a stark contrast against the brightness. He stood proud, his neck arched. He was quite the handsome fellow, and Ynilla thought maybe she was in for a run of good luck. Were the two together? They both had wings, but... they didn't stand as if they knew each other, nor did they greet each other. Spoilt for choice? She thought, for once feeling a little unsure of where to go next.

    "Ce-za-ry" she said slowly, tilting her head on one side. She looked into his soft brown eyes, at the twinkle she recognized all too well in them. After all, it was that which her eyes held too.
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    #5

    The field had been brimming with life recently; new creatures foundling around like fish out of water, their eyes bigger than their expectations it seemed sometimes. Nier had found himself becoming quite the locale resident here, wandering, eyeing up potential harem members, potential friends, foes. Yet the greying steed was not the only one who had been quite the fixture, he'd noticed Cezary a couple of times, his wings quite grandiose compared to Nier's pale angelic ones -- quite the contrast really, angelic, cherubic, but hellish within...

    Nier dipped his nose, a quaint little acknowledgment to the winged steed, "Cezary. Fancy meeting you here, again." his tone is neither brash nor rude, but cool and crisp, perhaps clipped in the wrong ears. His wing arched lazily at his side as his attention was divided from the newly arrived Cezary, to the lady at hand. He had to chuckle inwardly to himself, his invisibility, his wings, if no one had seen them before it was quite a spectacle, a show indeed. All he needed was a curtain and someone to introduce him, and they'd be throwing roses galore.

    "Of course you, Petal. I see no one else worthy attention right now." he smirked, his dark eyes following her as she moved, to and fro, swaying almost as if in delusion. Nier offered her a wing, turned it to the side, ruffled some feathers before tucking them back close to his body. He winked a little, crass perhaps but it worked, sometimes. Such a charmer. The silver steed acknowledged her words, an ear twitch here, a low snort there.

    "I can be anything you like, Petal." Charmer, Hellion, Knight in Shining Armour. He was becoming quite the brilliant master of illusions in some case, an actor worthy of gold. It bided his time, it made him have a thrill where life had be such a dull, bleak canvas, he was having quite the blast painting it red, with swirls of colour. "Adventures. Good times. Quaint little life by the sea, encrusted jewels to gawp at all day. It never gets dull, do you think Gemstone Ridge would suit your needs, Petal?"

    • tyrael x amnesia • wings, invisibility • alpha of gemstone ridge •
    html by charmx, image by james porto
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    #6
    See, here’s the thing… Belgarath is the type of guy who doesn’t care what other guys want, but the moment he sees something or someone that other guys want, he wants the same thing. It’s a classic case of the biggest lion taking the best piece of meat from the lionesses who did all the hard work.

    Or maybe it’s closer to a lion running a cheetah off its kill.

    Either way, the biggest and baddest wins. And with his newfound power… Belgarath is pretty big and pretty bad, and he knows it. Several years ago, he was the best as throwing his weight around and snatching the ladies right out from underneath other stallions’ noses. Now he could literally scare them away. What could be more scary than the prospect of death? The fear of ice weighing one down… down and down until one drowns in frozen, bone-chilling waters?

    Bel is an impressive figure, if I do say so myself. He’s big and broad, being half Percheron, and yet has some sort of sadistic sensuality to him with the other half being Andalusian. He’s a powerhouse without being too bulky. Once, his ancestors were war machines for humans, trained to fight beneath their rider as an additional weapon. His sire was a war lord, his mother a harem wench. And Belgarath? Bel was run off for being too much a threat to daddy dearest. So here he is, and I’m so, so sorry.

    Bel spots a little dappled bay lady already attended by two winged stallions, and he feels the urge to really test his powers.
    Though winter is on its way out, and frost only clings to the ground in the morning, an icy sheen surrounds the green shoots in his immediate area. With a predatory gleam in his eye, the dapple gray stalks forward, sending a breath of icy cold air their way, quickly followed by an invading tendril of ice. He expects them to run or balk, or move in some way, because who in their right mind stands still when ice comes slinking towards you? He tries to follow the stallions’ movements, sending neck-high walls of ice up around the mare, and with it, the potentially crippling fear of all that is winter, and all that is icy, and death from its sharp, sharp points and cold, cold stillness. Horse’s hooves were not made for such slippery material… be careful, friends, lest you slip and fall and oops… there go your legs!

    He has tried to cordon off the mare, get her in a little three-sided pen with Bel at the entrance, using fear to keep her a quivering mess – and fear to keep the stallions away. Why would they risk an icy death (impalement or… crushed by icicles, for instance) for a simple mare they’ve only just met? Don’t tell me they’re both heroically brave and chivalrous (I’m looking at you, Nier), and would overcome such threats just for a little piece of ass? On the off chance that they do come looking for trouble, he’s ready with a couple more tricks.

    God, what an asshole.




    [heh... sorry guys? don't hate me! <3 ]
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    #7
    "Anything, hm?" She pondered. There was something dark about Nier, something almost maniacal, and she wasn't sure if it enticed her or put her off. She didn't think a pairing with two high maintenance members would work, but she did wonder quite how far he might go and just what he might do for her...

    She looked between Nier and Cezary, struggling with choice. Nier was exciting and curious, but Cezary was handsome and steady. She sucked in a deep breath and let it out through her soft, velvet nostrils. Such a permanent choice she thought. Once she chose she couldn't go back, couldn't change her mind.

    As she pondered, the two stallions waiting patiently she suddenly felt a chill blow across her face and back. The sun was still bright and she was standing in the sunshine, but the frost beneath her hooves was crackling and spreading. She snorted in disapproval, lifting her hooves one at a time to avoid the icy, numbing cold. She squinted her eyes against draft of air which was drying them out and saw a lone figure standing on the slight hilltop, watching them.

    She went to shout out to him, to ask what he thought he was doing, when she sucked in a gust of gaseous ice and it made her cough and splutter. As she began to panic a tiny bit sharp shards of what she first thought was glass split through the now hard ground. They crissed and crossed until she was almost trapped and in a growing panic (loathe she to admit it) she spun to find an exit. The only open side was blocked by a tall, muscular grey stallion.

    Feeling a raw, instinctive mixture of fear and anger she stomped her back foot and backed into a corner. The cold pierced her skin and she began to involuntarily shiver.
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    #8
    [sorry, didn't know if anyone else was going to post and i didn't want this thread to drop!]

    Yessss… that’s exactly the type of effect Bel wanted to have on others; part fear, part indignation, and the realization that there was very little they could do about it.

    He watches the emotions play across the mare’s face, and he cannot help but smile. Though it was in pleasure, on his handsome face, it was warped into a sort of sinister grin, as if he couldn’t possibly hide the dark and dastardly thoughts going on behind those eyes. He takes quick glances to the side, trying to determine if one of the other stallions is going to make a move against him. They seem complacent enough for the moment, but that doesn’t mean he’s going to let his guard down.

    Dark blue eyes (the demon ice is inside him, after all) bore down on the mare until he finally speaks, his voice rolling out like the collapse of an iceberg, booming and deep. “Well what have we here… what’s your name, pet?”

    He should say that there’s no need to be afraid, that he won’t hurt her, and he doesn’t bite hard. Alas, that would be lying. What kind of relationship could this ever be if he’s going to start it off with lying? It would be doomed from the start.


    BELGARATH
    No mercy to what we are doing, no thought to what we have done
    No need to feel the sorrow, no remorse for the helpless one
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    #9
    Ynilla looked to the two other stallions, hoping for one of them to protect her. She loved an adventure, no doubt, but she knew she was in way over her head when it wasn't fun any more.
    Still backed into a corner, the draft of cold rolling off the ice walls in waves, she kept her dark eyes set on this sneering new stallion. He seemed to think this was great, but she didn't. Plus, she'd had enough of feeling cold!
    When asked who she was, she shot back a reply as quickly as she could, although she was feeling slow from the icyness. She hoped her attempt at anger covered the tremors in her velvet voice. "Not your play-thing, that's who!!" She snorted sharply, breathing shallow and quick. "I could ask you the same thing!"
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    #10

    I shut the door and turn all the lights out.
    And listen to all the songs that the night shouts.
    They go something just like this...
    So go fill up a glass with tonic rocks and gin
    and drink yourself to happiness.


    ____Nier's ear flicks backward, the sound of approaching hoof beats, they are well trodden and quiet against the light crisp ground. The winged steed turns and eye, dark and ominous to the new arrival, thinking it just another steed wanting to entice this pretty little thing away, but the moment he catches the scent of him on the breeze, he feels that numbing chill right down to his bones. Nier was no saint, he was no knight in shining armour -- but he could be in occasions to win shreds of hope from damsels in distress. Yet he did not appreciate the way the dappled steed took to the mare, and of course, when he saw the ice prison encage the lone mare, the winged man was plagued with memories.

    ____A demon by nature, it was made so because of hellish stallions like this one, who took the torment of others and got a mighty high from it. Nier pinned both ears to his poll, stalked forward and with a snap of teeth, he offered a charming yet devilish grin. "Neat trick." he growled low, a rumble in his chest, and he disappeared from view, invisible for now, he popped up right close to Belgarath's side. he extended his neck and whispered close to his ear. of course, he was in the firing line, but he disappeared soon enough to not warrant massive injury from this one's snowy barbs. "You're not the only one with party tricks." his voice is smooth, but his dark eyes, normally dead, cold, they came alive. There was a sense of justice beating within his normally caged heart. He turned his head towards Ynilla, he turned briskly on his hinds and turning back on his forehead, he gave a swift blow with both hind feet at the ice prison. It may not have dispersed, it was quite the fortress after all, but it was more of a point to be made. Nier walked a few steps, arched his neck and broadened his wings slightly; a demon in angels clothing, but a demon can fight another demon with words, with weapons. But Nier offered cool words, still googling the mare from the corner of his eye. She was starting to shiver. And was hiding a great deal of her distress. He turned back to Belgarth and also Cezary.

    ____"Now don't you think that's not playing fair? I know fair is boring, I know fair holds no real fun. But it just shows what a lesser man you really are, to encage helpless damsels. I thought the idea was to string them along... not imprison them like birds." he grunted and turned to Ynilla, he spoke softer, an ear flickering to the side, "Just think of warm, rolling desserts and the sun's blistering rays on your skin. Think of heat waves and rolling beaches with the sea lapping at your feet. Anything except the cold."

    ____He turned back to Belgarth then, "What is your point to this? What do you gain, except some cheap satisfaction of mindless torment? I'm sure there are much more interesting jobs for you to do."

    N i e r

    the winged, invisible demon of tyrael & amnesia, stalks the gemstone ridge with no one by his side



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