05-12-2015, 08:16 PM
{i learned the voices died with me}
Thus far everything was going fine. But perhaps "fine" was the wrong word to use here. It wasn't a meeting that either of them intended to be pleasant, and they both knew it. It was a business meeting, and they weren't about to pretend like it was anything more. Why waste time pretending anyway? The petty flattery of gossipy mares was sickening, and absolutely nothing Storm wanted to be a part of.
The mare in front of her, the dignified white mare splashed with patches of brown, she knew what she was doing. Though she hadn't specifically introduced herself as so, Storm suspected she was queen, or at the very least, second to lead. It might have been the way she held herself with pride and dignity, or the short and sweet attitude she possessed, either way, it made an impression on the wanderer.
Storm listened, intently, pulling in and analyzing every word that flowed off the tongue of the painted mare. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she liked the sounds of this place. Evil, determined, these were words that rang like sweet sweet music to her ears. The cremello notably perked up, her eyes glimmering, eager to meet the other creatures that classified themselves worthy to live in such a place. Though Straia went on to explain that Storm would be free to leave at any time, the mare didn't really need any more convincing. With any luck, she could, and would, lurk in the Chamber for the rest of her days, likely avoiding the other lands and their inhabitants.
Memories bubbled up of her own homeland, where she had spent a mere year and a half of her life. The memories weren't particularly fond, but they brought with them a warm glow nonetheless. She pictured her own dam, weak and insignificant, cowering beneath the the power of her sire. He had been a spectacular sight, tall and powerful, perfectly carved muscles outlining every inch of his body. Often, blood had stained his coat, which was creamy and smooth just as hers. Never his own blood though; few equines dared to challenge him. The stallion had always made sure to maintain his dominance with a cruel hand, beating those around him into submission before they had even had a chance to protest his authority. It had been this stallion that Storm idolized, worshiped even. Until the day he had died Storm lived and breathed for his every order, and even now she wished to continue on with her life in his name, and eventually build upon his legacy. First, she needed a home, somewhere to start anew and recover from old injuries.
A few moments passed before Storm realized how sidetracked she had become. Shaking her head, she quickly said, "If I have any questions now, I can't think of them. If I have any questions later I'll figure it out on my own."
The mare in front of her, the dignified white mare splashed with patches of brown, she knew what she was doing. Though she hadn't specifically introduced herself as so, Storm suspected she was queen, or at the very least, second to lead. It might have been the way she held herself with pride and dignity, or the short and sweet attitude she possessed, either way, it made an impression on the wanderer.
Storm listened, intently, pulling in and analyzing every word that flowed off the tongue of the painted mare. As much as she hated to admit it, even to herself, she liked the sounds of this place. Evil, determined, these were words that rang like sweet sweet music to her ears. The cremello notably perked up, her eyes glimmering, eager to meet the other creatures that classified themselves worthy to live in such a place. Though Straia went on to explain that Storm would be free to leave at any time, the mare didn't really need any more convincing. With any luck, she could, and would, lurk in the Chamber for the rest of her days, likely avoiding the other lands and their inhabitants.
Memories bubbled up of her own homeland, where she had spent a mere year and a half of her life. The memories weren't particularly fond, but they brought with them a warm glow nonetheless. She pictured her own dam, weak and insignificant, cowering beneath the the power of her sire. He had been a spectacular sight, tall and powerful, perfectly carved muscles outlining every inch of his body. Often, blood had stained his coat, which was creamy and smooth just as hers. Never his own blood though; few equines dared to challenge him. The stallion had always made sure to maintain his dominance with a cruel hand, beating those around him into submission before they had even had a chance to protest his authority. It had been this stallion that Storm idolized, worshiped even. Until the day he had died Storm lived and breathed for his every order, and even now she wished to continue on with her life in his name, and eventually build upon his legacy. First, she needed a home, somewhere to start anew and recover from old injuries.
A few moments passed before Storm realized how sidetracked she had become. Shaking her head, she quickly said, "If I have any questions now, I can't think of them. If I have any questions later I'll figure it out on my own."