Blood of the Rose - any

[Osiria]

The girl stands upon the crest of the hill. Her limbs, once as white as driven snow, were now dirt and dust stained like weary, blanched bones uncovered by an errant wind. She blinks slowly, and the gleam in her midnight black eyes show that her limbs are not as age weary as they may seem. Beneath that dirtied white, beats blood so young and restless. The wind blows more soiled specks of dust against her limbs and casts the sheet of tangled white and red mane across her eyes. Lids white, and lashes stained red like she bored the flecks of blood from a foe, flutter shut against her slender cheek once more. Slowly they reopen and that glimmer is stronger, now it reveals a feral gleam. Oh no, do not believe this girl is violent, despite her pallid skin and blood stained torso. She may stand upon the crest of a hill like a beautiful apparition in white; the sin of blood pooled and dappled across her slender frame as ominous as it is beautiful… but Osiria’s heart is believed pure even in its errant ways… Slowly those slender limbs begin to move and she drifts as lightly as a ghost down the hillside. Grasses rub the dust from her shins and her knees and tangle in her white and red tail. Dusk grey nostrils flare as she drinks the new unchartered air. She recognizes none of the scents that surround her; maybe it should whisper warning into the fluttering of her heart but it does nothing but inject delight into her gut. Her stomach churns and her skin shivers, fasciculations rippling across her muscles with her electric delight.   As the sun slips beneath the sky bleeding burnt oranges, bruised pinks and angry reds into the sky, the dawn awakens in Osiria’s tale. Amidst the crowds she stands, the dirtied wanderer, mysterious in her presence, joyful in her surroundings and darkening in her soul. -x- O S I R I A -x-

[Weir]

Weir found himself frequenting the field quite often these days. It was a rather slow process, recruiting more subjects for the Dale, but he stuck to it nonetheless. Though he did not realize, he was perhaps what had made it such a difficult process. Weir knew a great many things, and thus he shared a great many things with others. Even complete strangers. Including when he was supposed to be offering them a home, and not filling their heads with information they were not like to retain.

As is true Weir fashion he makes his way across the field in a slow sightseeing saunter, the summer sun warm and welcome on his back. His amber eyes gaze about lazily almost, taking in many aspects of the terrain and not just the equine themselves. Narrowing in on obscure things. A shiny bit of rock, a striped caterpillar, until finally they find their way back to peeping the field.

He soon spots another new comer, a red and white splashed female, standing alone. Surely she would be needing a place to stay, as most who came here did, and lucky for him he was there to invite her. He is gentle in his approach, his roan pelt already collecting moisture from the heat, but he doesn't seem to mind. His chestnut banner flicks itself, swatting at the incessant buzzing of gnats, the pests retreating for only moments.

He clears his throat before speaking, a gentle erhhm erhhm erhhm, "Hello miss, I am Weir from the Dale. How are you this lovely afternoon?"  He had learned from his past attempts, and thought he might start her off slow. Taking time to give his name and engage her in conversation, he gave her a small but polite smile. At least he would try to not overwhelm her right off the bat, but he couldn't  make any promises that the conversation wouldn't stray.

Eclectic Vagabond of the Dale

[Black Ranger]

Black was making his daily rounds of the fields, and decided he would check out what the Field had to offer today. He usually has good luck in here finding others. His long black legs carried him over the summer grass, It was pretty high at this time of year so he had to lift them up pretty high. He was out enjoying a stroll through the fields on this nice summer day. The storms had passed and he ventured from Island Resort to see who was out. It was a pretty good journey from the Resort to here. It took about half a day for him to get here, so it was mid afternoon when he finally arrived. He walked over to the river and lowered his crown to the blue liquid below him. He pressed his nose against the raging cool water. Lapping it up with his tongue, he got a good long drink. It tasted good.

He lifted his head and droplets of water fell from his chin, as he did he caught a glimpse of two figures off in the distance. Which caught his curiosity trotted slowly towards the figures in the distance, as he got closer her realized the one was a frosted red roan figure and the other was another they looked like they've been through alot. As he got closer he noticed the one was a mare the other was a stallion. He approached the mare, who was covered in dirt and looked alittle tattered. Hello I am Black Ranger, how are you? He lowered his head to the mare close to him. What brings you to the field? He gave her a gentle field. He looked at the young stallion on the other side of him. Then looked back at the mare, there are many dangers out here for a mare to be alone. Looks back towards home, I live in Island Resort its not much but you are more then welcome to go there if your looking for a home. He smiled at her, he had alot to offer her. A place of protection and a place to rest and a place to nurish herself. Cause it looked like shes been with food and a home for a while.

He remembered how he was when he first got here, he didnt have a home or anything, now he was the leader of Island Resort and it made it home, and hes hoping to open it up and share it with others. He looked at the dirt colored one wondering what her story was. And wondering what brought her here, He stood between her and the roan stallion. He lowered his head and grabbed some grass and offered it to the mare. As a offering that he was a good stallion and meant no harm to her.