 |
The rising of the sun over the horizon marked the fifth day she'd been by herself. Recently booted from her herd, she was a wandering mare who stopped for no one. Well, that's what she thought at first. She had never experienced what it was like to be physically alone. There had always been a sturdy, warm body to lean against when the stars revealed themselves in the night sky. Her only mate had been a tree, which she found comfort in. This whole "actually independent" mare thing was for someone who was mentally strong.
Beauty Bird was not that someone.
Ahhh, that name usually strikes a few chords in others. Such a charming label for... A sooty mustang? That couldn't be right; but alas-- it was. Her grulla pelt wasn't as ravishing as a honeysuckle palomino or a misty grey, but it was the color of her family. They were a band made up of bays, roans, grullas, duns, and every so often your typical charcoal knight. Not very exciting nor extravagant. This is where Beauty Bird sought to be different. Although her coat bland to some, it was her face that stuck out. She was very sweet in appearance, almost like a bashful filly with the way her long, dark forelock usually covered one chocolate eye. Looks could be deceiving. She wasn't a young mare to mess with. The moment you throw shade her way is the moment your peace comes to a destructive halt.
It was a morning like the rest since she had been on her own. A basic routine had begun to take over her actions. She would wake up, head to the nearest water source, graze, then leave. Encounters with other horses were rare. The newest field she'd arrived at the border of smelled fresh with others, therefore today she knew she'd be in for some well-needed company.
The vixen dragged her lazy bones to the creek she had decided to camp near the night prior. Her ears were perked in alert, eyes scanning for any indication of a fellow presence. She detected nothing, deeming it safe to show herself. She pushed out from the brush, confidence in her steps as she approached the molasses flowing water. Her nostrils flared, giving one last check before she lowered her neck and dipped her muzzle into the cool liquid. It was refreshing going down her parched throat, and she bet it was even better to roll in.
Summer was in full swing, leaving the days to be warm. The sun was in the middle of the sky, making the planet as heated as it would get that day. Beauty Bird plunged a hoof into the water, pawing it, splashing her chest with the liquid. She took a few more steps in, then flopped onto her side, falling with a crash. She rolled from side to side until her pelt was slick and coated in mud. Only then did she stand once more, shaking off the droplets that slid down her sides. She released a snort of amusement, bounding out of the creek with foal-like energy.
Now that she was awake, she felt her electric blood surging through her. She bounced around in a circle, throwing her head back to rear at an invisible foe. When she landed she glanced side to side, lifting her nose to a branch that hung before her. She was very inquisitive, and decided to scope out the tree itself.
She knew she was acting like a newborn filly, yet she didn't care.
|
Just throw it back, for one more night
On a starlit and moon-struck night.In Autumn's wake, I seemed to explode onto the scene. Where once there were leaves, freshly fallen and crisply brown, they were a torrent, a whirlwind of yellow, orange and gold. The dying grasses, scorched from the summer's reign made them crisp and splintered beneath my hooves as I fell through the meadow at a charge. All strawberry feathers flying around my sturdy limbs as I go. thick tendrils of red as a sea of bloody foam against the mottled green backdrop. It was nice to stretch, to run and charge, albeit every few strides I would trip over some unseen lump of dirt, stumble a little and continue as elegantly as one could, when one was quite on the large side. A monstrous giant of sorts, throwing her weight around yet still trying to take care for the delicate flowers beneath my feet.
Perhaps I was a walking contradiction. I was no longer an exhausted mess; my stay within the beautiful Falls had given my coat a new lustre, my eyes a new fire. Viridian green eyes swallowed the landscape, the sturdy trees, the crisp grasses beneath. Open fields, and I took advantage. My canter swallows the ground, long, purposeful. Not that I have anywhere inclined to go. It is good to feel the autumnal breeze tangle my locks, bless my coat with a nice, comfortable breeze. Not the sticky, blistering sun that beat down upon me and made every little crevasse sticky with sweat.
I was still no amazing wildflower; not as pristine or well kept as the primroses and lavender. I was more like the climbing flowers that clung to the trees, hidden in the depths of the Falls. Vast and aplenty, all over the place with no real coordination. Of course they were pretty to look at at a distance, but up close you saw the entanglement and felt that even they didn't know where they were going. so, like the trailing vines with pretty little flowers that bloom in adversary, I crawl over the meadow, long strides eating up the ground, head high and neck arched, squirrelly ears, tufty red lobes perked forward and listen to all the autumnal day's sounds. A few chirps here, some darling lark's song there, and the rush of the wind as it whispered sweet nothings into the trees.
For once, for once I was not skulking the trees like some shadow, I was there, I was out in the open. Oof. I trip once more, a large stone in my way. Ah, perhaps, perhaps it is safer me to lurk the shadows. Oh, but then there are the roots of gnarled trees that threaten to capsize my vast vessel, the hidden concealment of rabbit holes that long to take my leg. Perhaps, perhaps I should have flashing lights, like twinkling astrals warning others away. A walking hazard.
In my foray, my eyes fall across a figure; soaked through and tresses slick against her. I watched her activities, careening about like a flighty filly, eyes wide and inquisitive. When she went towards the tree, I was far too close to ignore her. 'Enjoying yourself?' I ask, nickering softly, fluffy ears turning, attuning themselves to her wavelengths. 'I often wonder myself what it's like for a squirrel to climb those trees, for a bird to fly up high in the branches.' my tone is wistful, perhaps a bit too wayward and distant. I turn my attention back to the new arrival and with a blessed smile, 'I'm Eld, of the Falls. A lovely place, lots of water, lots of trees. What's your name?' My tail glides over my hacks, idly before I turn my head the way I came, back to the Falls. 'If you're the exploring type, there's a few nooks and crannies you can get yourself lost in. Well, not me, too small little gaps for me.' I laugh, again far too much talking, but then it happens again and I cannot stop myself, my lips twitch and more words slip out, flowery and soft. Like a lark's gentle song. 'The Falls makes a nice home, that is what you're looking for, right? A home? Well, there's plenty of room, some nice faces... ah, I'm talking too much aren't I?' socially awkward butterfly with clipped wings.
The ground did fold and eat us both
But all my love, I did devote.
- resident of the falls - |
i'm on the wrong side of heaven, and the righteous side of hell
He can’t say for sure what brought him to the Field; perhaps a chance to warm his old bones, for winter came early in the Chamber. Already the leaves had started falling from the trees, and more than once he’d felt the sharp sting of impending cold against his skin. When he had awoken this morning from his nest in the pines, he could see his breath rising in smoky puffs from his nostrils. He had shaken the cold from his hide, grimacing as his bones waved a fist in protest. But he had pressed on, over ridges and down through valleys, the further stretches of the lands his ultimate destination. Recruiting had never been his forte, but he was always game to try his hand at it. Now, perhaps, more so than any other time. The old warrior had found himself on the bad side of his lovely queen, and though it didn’t bother him overmuch, it certainly wouldn’t hurt to try and earn a couple of brownie points.
The sun glares off of his black hide as he walks into the clearing known as the Field, and for a moment he would like to just stand here and nap. Getting old was a bitch sometimes. With a resolute sigh though he ventures in, his eyes sharp as they swept over the horses here. Not every horse had what it took to be a Chamberling. They were a different breed, forged from a blend of iron and steel. As different as all of the current members were, they shared one important thing; love for their home. The stallion is musing over the new names and faces when a mare catches his eye. She is rearing, pawing at a foe only she can see. A smile curves over his lips; this was something he could work with. So with a shake of his head he makes his way over, but not before another mare approaches. “Impressive moves.” he says coolly, nodding at the Falls mare in greeting. “You seem to be a natural. My Army would love to have you.” and he quickly remembers that he has some semblance of manners, “Forgive me. I’m Warship, of the Chamber. Lots of rocks, lots of trees. A quiet place, if you don’t mind ravens.” he says, smiling and allowing some of that reckless charm of his to shine through the iron-clad brocade.
warship 
|
