|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
 Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2008 6:56 pm
  How much was too much?
Well, that certainly depended on what was being questioned. Like eating a whole bundle of apples in one setting was pushing it, or laughing until tears poured down your cheeks. Running around until your legs ached and you couldn't move definitely did the trick just as well...
...but all of that would quickly be forgotten if the mare being questioned was in the picture as well. She herself, even at first glance, was too much. At second glance, maybe just a tad annoying...
And get to know her truly, she was just down right crazy.
Talking to things that weren't even there because she thought it expressed her intentions better. A conversation with one that could not return an answer, therefore, you'd have to make up one yourself...was always the best way to live life. That way, if the one you were talking too wanted to say something bad, she wouldn't let it. For she created what they'd say.
It was easier that way, and a whole lot less painful. Why bother talking to others when all they did was call her insane? She wasn't insane, no! Just a tad on the different side. Yuppers. Just different. But in a good way of course!
That's at least, what her parents told her when she was young. Following family traditions indeed, they'd say...as they watched her trip with every step she took.
This mare's name was Rainbow Sherbert. A name given to her by Vanilla Swirl, her mother. A fine name of course, if you wanted to seem like a girly frilly mare who obsessed over stallions. Nah, her name didn't fit her at all! Bertie did, rather...and when introducing herself to her...well, imaginary friends, she'd say her name was Bertie...taken from the 'Sherbert' part of her name and shortened.
So at this exact moment Bertie could be seen talking to one of the stallions that weren't actually there. Deep in a conversation as well.
"George darling," She giggled, "Stop it you're making me blush!"
George! Ah! All her 'friends' were named George.
|
 |
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2008 7:26 pm
Cold, cold, cold. So damn cold out here...but it didn't really bother Adamu so much as it might other Soquili, for he had been born in the cold, grown up in the cold. Spring was still a fairy tale for the young stallion, and summer but a dream as empheral as flawless snow after a storm. He was old enough, by now, to know that the snow never remained flawless. Right now, for instance, it was being marred by black hooves, churned by stockinged legs. He flagged his tail as he trotted along, trying to keep it drifting above the snow rather than dragging and tangling.
All this was forgotten, however, at the sound of--at first interpretation--a tryst of some sort. Ears flicking back in dismay, he came to a halt, fully intending to turn around and flee the way he had come rather than disturb a couple's...ah, 'private moments.'
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Thu Jan 31, 2008 7:38 pm
Hooves.
She heard them, if ever so softly in the distance, but they were still there. The crunching of snow beneath one's legs was a hard noise to mistake and not one that she's ever dismiss.
Wait, so someone was actually out there? Ooh! Goody! Maybe they'd like to meet George!
Blue stockinged legs made their way over to where the obvious noise originally came from, and then all of a sudden, they stopped. Almost abruptly too, as if they had second thoughts about the path they were taking. Hmm, how strange.
Had the stranger who owned the hooves that made the noise decided to not approach the mare before him? Bertie flicked her mane in interest, and continued on her own path towards the stallion. It had to have been a stallion, for a mare does not carry oneself so heavily across the deep snow.
"If you're out there, and not imaginary...I don't bite. Only on full moons, but it's your lucky day because it's not a full moon tonight. So come on out now!" The crazy young mare laughed a very high pitched, and almost vicious laugh. One you'd think that a storybook witch possessed when fullfilling her duties. Thanks to her father, she grew to love to act like his characters in his stories.
Full moons. What was she, a werewolf?
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
Posted: Fri Feb 01, 2008 11:22 am
Indeed, Adamu was having second thoughts...but as the feminine voice called out to him, he paused. He could run, yes, but what was he if he did that? A coward, that's what, running from nothing more than a conversation. So with a smile he stepped forward, doing his best to ignore the insane edge to the mare's laugh. He knew nothing of witches or werewolves, but it still made his tail twitch nervously. "My apologies, I thought you might not be alone..." And that she might wish privacy with that other that, apparently, was not there.
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
|
