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 Posted: Mon Jan 19, 2009 6:25 pm
 And so it happens[ Horses: Talullah-Kaimi / Dante ]
[ Rest is Here! ]
[ Status - In Progress. ]Quote: Tonight was the night. If he waited any longer, then he was a fool. As he made his way throughout a lifeless grove, the moon guided him safely through the night's touch. He felt a cold chill on his back but assumed that was only from being nervous. He didn't really know why he was so nervous. He was only going to see his best friend. Well, that's what he wanted to think.
Tonight he would tell her what he told everyone else- he always talked about Tal, whether it was in a humorous glee or a comfortable smile. But recently he realized she was more then those things to him. A life without Tal would be... no, he wouldn't even think about it that way. He needed to stay focused and remain on task. He would tell her how much he cared about her, and that he knew what love was now. Love was what he always felt for her, and it was feeling he could never forget now. He always imagined love to be wonderful, and now he knew it was better then that. He seriously prayed Tal was feeling something similar as well.
He huffed a bit as he felt some cold air drift into his lungs. Something always brought him and Tal together, so he kept his hopes high and his mind confident. Unfortunately, Dante was running into this situation with no practice or poise. He wanted Tal to see him as he presented the truth, even if he looked sort of silly along the way. If anything, she would understand, and in truth want Dante to be just that way. ...
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Posted: Mon Jan 19, 2009 6:31 pm
[ T e e p e e . A r r p e e ]
The World at My Paws
[ North ]
 As the tales and prose state, the skinwalkers are 'born' from a old tree tied to the demonic gates of the underworlds, in which they drag their sorry arses out of, vicious and snapping at will and want - they only desire the rich blood and death cries that their victims spill out upon their long, jagged and very vile teeth.
In this little tale, though, the contents that were to be spilled out into the night were anything by morbidly bent on wanton destruction. If any he was mainly a skeptical creature, having heard such dark whispers about the world of mortals - of the good and mighty creatures that rested on the lands. This made the Jackal curious, his head buzzed of folklore and curses from the realms below, and his maw dripped of shadows, waiting to satiate itself on whatever may accidentally cross his path. Unlike most of the skinwalkers, the jackal's mind kept bothering him as he had spent his last few days, mulling over what kind of world it would be, to be so full of flesh and wanderlust creatures. Were they as gorgeous, and easy to lure as those that scrawled across the shadow realm, looking for the next big hit? These tantalized the poor canine until he couldn't handle it any longer. He had to see for himself.
As he rolled into the grass, finally free from the depths below - fully understanding that he may never see his little favourite slice of hell, two bright and dazzled teal orbs finally cracked open on the left side of his face - the other side damned to the immobility and sightless for the remainder of his life on this bloody planet. Clicking his maw once or twice, as if to taste the world for the first time, cool air snipping through the gaps between his teeth in the nick of time - light and little click click sounds responding to the action.
A thousand questions blazed through the small canine's mind, as the jackal raised himself back to his four slender feet. Holes in the tangibility dripping and broke through with every movement, creating small windows through him, allowing whatever poor creature had been around him at the time to view through - an anomaly he kept dear to his little black heart. He was a shadow, he moved like a sickly liquid, and danced around the light, always just out of reach. With a deep frown, the little jackal started his first waltz in this strange, new world, the grasses underneath him taunting his paws and the winds whistling through his fur, dancing with the shadows allowed to drip free from his inkly black pelt. Wherever his paws took him was where he would end up - he didn't care, he just wanted to enjoy his first moments on this world.
Hark. North was here.
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Posted: Mon Jan 19, 2009 6:56 pm
Take Flight[ Horses: Asch / Wind Gypsy ]
[ Rest is Here! ]
[ Status - In Progress. ] Quote: Spring and summer have finally left the quiet, diverse Kawani lands. She's watched them depart for some time now, first as a fading of the fresh, newborn green, then, slowly, as an absence of warmth. It's gone now; fall is upon them, bringing with it a crisp beauty all its own. The leaves are turning, rich golds and bright reds painting the treetops. A cool breeze licks through the valleys now and then, and with it, wildlife rejoices the relenting of the scorching heat. Birds sing as loudly as their small lungs will allow, and a careful eye may spot squirrels scurrying through fallen leaves. Even the Soquili have fallen prey to this infectious celebration, and foals frolic and play while their parents will let them.
Until now, the watchful mare has observed from beneath the billowing clouds, wings tucked firmly against her sides. It's not that she thinks herself a land-bound sort, forever forsaking the blessing of flight, but... Circumstances of late have been beyond her mortal control, and she's only just regained the ability to utilize it.
Experimentally, she extends a pinion, stretching and testing it with short, brisk flaps. A moment later, the other joins it, outstretched, and then she takes wing, ignoring for now the storm she knows is brewing in the distance. It's a ways off yet, and she has much to appreciate here, in the present.
She flies, and flies, and flies, over plains and forests, hills and valleys, reveling in the simple joy of the wind coursing through her mane. Windy would never say it, but flight is truly a tragic blessing to miss out on. She'd share it with every soul, if only she were able. Alas, she's not.
And now, the environment seems set on making certain she's not able to enjoy it either. She can hear thunder rolling in the distance, ever-nearer, and the cotton clouds are darkening on the horizon, so near she can smell their dampness. A crack of lightning splits the air, and then, she decides it's no longer time to ride the skies. The mare tucks her wings, setting down, elegantly, into a rippling plain. ...
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