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 Posted: Mon Oct 24, 2011 9:25 am
This is a PRP between Cyhorse's Ahriman
And Faithofthefallen's Jezabelle
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Posted: Mon Oct 24, 2011 9:42 am
Belle glanced up at the gathering twilight, her bright crimson eyes grateful for the relief from the blistering sunlight but regretful that the sinking sun signaled her need to return to the den. She had a feeling her mothers' familiar, Cleaver, was aware of Belle's daytime escapades. Also, that the cranky owl couldn't care less. The farther Belle strayed away from the den, the more likely she was to have an 'accident' and never return. That would suit Cleaver, who wanted nothing more than to get Jessamine's troublesome daughter out of the way so she could have her mistress to herself again. The own would also make it tricky for her to sneak back inside, if her mother returned to find Belle gone, she may choose to get rid of Belle herself.
Belle had grown since her last venture outside the den, Jessamine had remained home for months, fighting against the madness that drove her to hunt in order to spend 'quality time' with her daughter. Jezabelle knew she suspected, but it wasn't enough to make her want to stay safely tucked away like some little pet. She wanted to explore, to find adventure, and meet other foal's her age. To be normal.
But she could never be normal, the blood glistening wetly at the corners of her mouth and the salty tang lingering at the back of her tongue were evidence of that. Her hooves were smooth and rounded, her shoulder blades pale and unbroken by leathery wings. As young as she was, she knew what other soquili thought of her, a regular with a taste for blood. They claimed she embraced a nature that was not her own; cruel, monstrous, an abomination, they whispered amongst themselves, thinking foolishly that because she was young she didn't have ears or was too naive to use them. But They had never felt the dreadful fiery yearning that tormented her when she denied her nature, the weakness and madness that creeped up on her if she refused to give in to the craving. She was what she was made to be, like her mother before her. She could not change, and she would not hide. They would learn to accept her one way or another.
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Posted: Thu Dec 22, 2011 8:12 pm
The light of day was already beginning to quickly fade away as the sun bowed to the moon, which took its rightful place in the darkening sky. A once baby blue sky already began to be tainted by the darkness the moon brought along with it. This scene would only attract the night crawlers who would be lurking in the shadows, preying on the poor day walkers that dared to trek through the unforgiving night alone. Tree limbs twisted and curved over a trampled down path that many soquili had tread over throughout the many years. The scene was one that only existed in foals' nightmares. A pair of pitch black eyes peered out from the depths of the forest where the sounds of creatures cackling and others growling could be heard.
Ahriman followed the path out towards where the trees began to thin and the forest began to fade into a flat plain. His dark eyes darted around as he peered around the forest, his home. Not many foals felt as comfortable as the kalona colt did in the dark forest, but he still understood that he had to keep his guard up. A foal versus a full grown beast would easily become a snack.
With his head held high, Ahriman couldn't help but let a smirk stretch across his muzzle. He wasn't normal, not in the slightest bit, but he had learned to love his being abnormal. It would be difficult for any foal with such an insane mother to call himself normal. His white ears twitched back and forth as his black and white wings folded to his sides. The blood that seemed to be painted on his coat now became even more prevalent when his wings were not in the way. Slowly, Ahriman licks his small, but sharp, teeth. His stomach growled and he quickly became aware that he had an urgent thirst for blood...
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