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 Posted: Wed Nov 05, 2008 8:48 pm
 Hoof beats were dull over the faint covering of snow, the dead vegetation crunching obnoxiously with each step. Each dragging, sluggish, mindless step. The corpse-colored mare was most definitely not within her mind at the moment, though a definite scowl was set upon her young features. There was an argument going on with that head of hers, a heated debate between judgments about where the body should go - north to the desert with its mysteries and promised refuge, or south to the lands of those she'd sported conversation with in her travels. At least one of them must be willing to take her company back, right?
Of course, not once did the prospect of returning to her kin come to mind.
Beatrice sighed, pink eyes glossy as she vaguely took in her surroundings. The base of the mountains had the terrain morph to a strange mixture of pasture and rock, outcroppings jutting from splotches of high, dead grass. She wandered closer to the thin edge of the forest, though still technically out in the open. An easy target, a constant presence hissed in her head. Tris flinched away from the thought, drawing herself completely out of her mind and into the present.
Crap... now where had she wandered off to?
Blinking to clear her vision, she halted, huffing as she realized with a grim smile this was not the same path she'd traveled on her way to the mountains in the first place. It was another faded, almost invisible strand of loops and curves, similar but leading in the opposite direction of her intended goal. A general goal, sure, but still - point stood she was going the wrong way and had been since rising at first light that morning.
The sun was heading towards setting now. Great.
"I think... I'm forming a knack for getting myself lost."
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Posted: Wed Nov 12, 2008 5:25 pm
Thankfully for Chandar, he thrived best at night. Soquili that ventured out during the day frequently turned in come evenings touch. The likelihood of crossing ones path lessened come evening, and with winters kiss, dropped even further. Suffice to say, the atomic green stallion wasn't Mr. Social. Ever since he'd been rejected time and again as a foal, the ebony and green one had decided investing in others lives wasn't the way for him.
If the world hated him so than he'd save it the trouble and hate it first. Compassion, curiosity and care had transformed in to something crass, cold and cruel. The world became laced in bitterness and he found no reason to bother with any. . . not foal, not mare, not stallion. Wandering on the outskirts of the kawani lands, doing his best to avoid the 'hot-spots' and any amount of socializing, Chandar lived day after day, every day, on his own.
His shadow was his companion, his bitterness his friend, and as far as he understood that was the best way to be. Today was no different.
Glaring down at his hooves, the spirits were not prepared to let the stallion alone. Trudging around an outcropping of stone, the stallion halted in his steps as someting white and pink fluttered before his eyes. Jerking his head up, a frown deepening upon his features, he cast a very obvious glower at Beatrice.
What was she doing here?
Though she was pale as the snow that litter the ground around them, she was also disgustingly bright(as if he could talk. . . ). Her mane might have mirrored the sunset and pink swirls lined her legs. Furthermore there was something mutated about her front legs. . . . something strange, as if she had wrapped them in cloth.
Weird.
The mountains edge should have been abandoned, especially with sunset so near. Part of the stallion contemplated retreating but his stubborn pride objected; he was walking this way. . . and like hell if he'd retreat just because some foolish mare was in his way! Scowl firmly on his features, he said nothing and waited for her to get the hint and move.
With luck his glare would keep her quiet. There was no need to be social or civil as far as Chandar was concerned.
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Posted: Tue Nov 18, 2008 7:38 pm
The growing darkness brought with it new sounds, her ears twitching and twisting towards the sources with only the vaguest of interest. The squabbling of birds as they settled for sleep or nighttime prowlers as they went about their ways were of no concern to her, rather she focused on surveying the area for shelter for as the night drew on. If the past few were any sign, the darkness would be even colder than before - not a night for travel.
Her thoughts paused, pale radars locking in on a rather specific vibration somewhere behind her. Withers on end at the nape of her neck, the mare turned slightly, the bare minimum to keep the intruder from her unguarded flank. A hiss boiled deep within her throat, an act so foreign to her persona that she refused to allow it to the surface. Only the Other hissed or rose her hooves against another, not her. It was only a presence, only an arrival that this stranger had committed so far - nothing to deserve a hostile reaction.
...but apparently, she'd somehow done something to deserve one.
She could do nothing but blink at the blinding blue eyes, startled by their heated glare. Would someone be so kind as to tell her why? For a moment, all she could do was stare in wonder and question at the strangely colored stallion, taking in his alarming patterns and form. Green like miasma seemed to fade into his mane, tail and foreleg, a glowing effect that set him drastically apart from the surreal scenery. Shapes reminding her of bones fell across his sides and face, all around giving her the impression of a skeleton hyped up on whatever herbs the two-leggers became crazed with during their celebrations.
The silence stretched on as she simply continued to stare back, confusion turning to flustered rage as his constant ill-tempered look. She'd said nothing, done nothing to offend him, yet he offered no trace of civil greeting. He just stood there like some cursing statue!
Shifting her weight on her hooves, she returned a scowl, albeit far more subdued than his, "What exactly are you so pissy about?" she finally inquired, tone brisk with annoyance towards his obscenely rude behavior. Beatrice herself might not have been much of a socialite, but at least she had manners. If there was a problem, why didn't he just leave her in peace already instead of standing there like a dork?
Cocking her head to the side, she rose a brow in question, watching in further silence. What a strange stallion. Perhaps he was one of those types that if he didn't have a full belly he was worse than Hell. Or perhaps traveling just didn't suit him. Without any justification on his part for being angry at her... she could fathom no other reasonable explenation for the unpleasant situation.
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Posted: Fri Nov 21, 2008 7:19 pm
If his hackles could raise they would have. Having been cursed without fangs, none could be bared, so instead he settled by allowing his glower to deepen. Somehow, one might have believed such a stunt was impossible, but Chandar's expressions were truly remarkable. He might have been considered handsome should he ever smile but, alas, such a thing was a rarity if ever a possibility. Cerulean eyes bore in to Beatrice with little emotion outside his own aggravation. . . .
What was he so pissy about? Oh, if only she knew. . .
For one she was still standing in his way. For second it seemed as if he weren't the only one in a foul mood; the delicate mare with pink swirls seemed less sour than him - at least he had the decency to keep his mouth shut.
Jaw tightening, temper flaring and Chandar wanting to bowl her over just for the sake of shutting her up, the stallion resisted. He wasn't violent, even if he sometimes thought about it. . . Nostrils flaring, he gave a snort and said nothing - she wasn't worth a fight. She wasn't worth a damn thing at this point. . . . Flicking his tail, tearing his gaze off her and forgetting her as quickly as she appeared, Chandar pushed himself past her. He didn't dare touch her, not inclined to contact himself, and could only hope the spirits would take her away.
These hills were meant for the loners - if she wanted to be social, she needed to go find the open plains and grasslands; if she was wise she'd just turn and leave. him. alone.
Of course, a very, very, very small part of Chandar did wonder what on earth such a female was doing. It was getting cold, and to be lost in the labyrinth of the hills and mountains was dangerous if not downright fatal. Her kind stood ridiculously out of place . . . . "The pass to the plains is the other way," he heard himself grunt, voice still wretchedly unhappy and sounding quite foreign even to his own ears.
What did he care if she lost herself in the hills?
Oh, wait, he'd probably run in to her again and have to deal with her a second time. The sooner she left the better for them all.
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Posted: Fri Nov 21, 2008 8:54 pm
Was it a shock her less-than-polite question only worsened the situation? No, not entirely. But how he could continue to look more and more ominous was a wonder to her. You'd think there'd be a physical limitation on how mad someone can look. If so, apparently he was born without it. Weird.
Minutes ticked by, the awkward, heated silence yet again settling in with its suffocating presence. At length, the mare sighed, shaking her head as if suddenly exhausted by the ordeal. While not quite that dramatic in reality, she was tired of the unneeded attitude when the worst she'd done was not mind her tongue. Seriously, the hell?
...how strange. Usually, she never cared if she gave others the cold shoulder - should the Other be in charge, she rarely objected should unwanted meetings become even on the cusp of violent if it meant finding peace. Yet, put her in the receiving role of such a treatment, and the frosty female would suddenly melt into a flustered, frustrated foal.
...how annoying.
The neon youth made a sound, catching her attention once more with a twitch of her ears. Her body tensed as he suddenly drew near, though she visibly relaxed when he passed her by without a single hair touching her. A relief, albeit a strange end to an even stranger "meeting," if one dare call it that.
Shrugging, Beatrice took with a great deal of joy her first few steps in the direction she now faced, mind returning to her previous ponderings about where to go. Regardless, both options were best confronted in lands she'd been a fool to leave that morning. A night's walk should place her back at square one and thankfully erase all thought of this anomaly in her day.
However, it seemed someone up there wasn't so inclined to give her a break. You'd think carrying a curse like Trigger would be enough, but no, of course the spirits must be plotting something constantly. She wondered vaguely if this was yet another horrific trait passed along to her by her father. How appropriate if it was...
The stallion just had to open his mouth now, didn't he? Instead of being polite and responding to her, he had to wait till she'd been perfectly content with forgetting about his rude a**, when he broke her thoughts and grumble out the most offensive assumption she'd ever heard. Even if it had been one of her possible options proximately two seconds prior. Moment he spoke, that plan was cast aside via spite and building rage.
"Excuse me?" she breathed, shocked he had the gall to direct her south. The safer path, that she knew, but oh did he have nerve.
She turned hoof, staring at him as if he'd kicked her in the face. "I already know where I'm going, thanks. Your directions would have been more welcomed should you have pointed me to the north, however." With a tisk of disgust and a disbelieving shake of her head, she turned back towards her original path. "Just because I'm a mare don't assume I belong in the plains, boy. My home lies in the desert, not the foul south." With a snort, she added beneath her breath a wish that he might be met by demons, the same beings whose stories and legends drew her to the so-called-inhabitable land of sand and heat.
Her? Offended? Mad? Pissed off?
Now why would you ever think that?
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Posted: Sun Nov 23, 2008 10:11 pm
Chandar blinked, ears flattening as her craned his neck to turn and study the pale mare. So she had spirit, did she? She had her own teeth to bare, her own nasty attitude to spurn upon others. Well, Beatrice certainly chose the wrong stallion to snap at.
Naturally edgy, amazingly enough the stallion visibly tensed. Blue eyes seemed to burn with a new fire and it was amazing his glower couldn't shoot lasers. For the longest moment he said nothing, chest heaving as his temper once again flared, jaw set as he ground his teeth together.
What. The. Hell.
It was reasons like this he didn't go out of his way to try to help. The pinch of saving grace within him seemed to shrivel up, seemed to burn out as she snarled once again at him; a shame she didn't realize what she was snuffing in her anger. A shame she didn't realize his intentions had been good and had little to do with her sex. . . .
It was her response that made him throw up his hooves and defeat his foalhood innocence back in to submission; what did it matter, even offering advice (which was a rarity for the stallion) now went rejected and unwanted. Somehow, telling her the safest route out was suddenly an insult!?!
Why did he even try?
"And just because I offer directions out of this hellish terrain, don't assume I was judging your sex, fool. If you want to prance through the mountain passes back to the desert, than shut the hell up and leave the mountain dwellers at peace." Nostrils flaring, tail swishing, Chandar said nothing more and continued on his way.
He wasn't much of a mountain dweller himself, but at least he didn't often cross the paths of snarling, pink-hoofed, females. As if she had the right to judge his anger. . . As if she had a right to think a damn thing about him period.
Mood in tatters and temper just barely in check, the stallion felt a violent urge to turn around and attack. He could fight, the scars proved that, and he held no restraint just because of her gender. No, Chandar wasn't nearly so chivalrous. . . . at least if he had once been he'd long since forgotten.
If Beatrice wanted a fight than so be it. . . .
She didn't intimidate him one bit.
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Posted: Wed Nov 26, 2008 9:18 pm
The threat of a possible fight had her body quivering. Not from fright, not from rage, but from fighting to control her. Tris could feel the Other snapping her mental teeth, lashing out against the binds that kept her as nothing more than a figment of her mind and allowed Tris to rule the body. Would he just shut. Up?! Just go. Away?!
"Peace?" she laughed, proud of herself from keeping her voice from shaking from the strain that was slowly building in her systems. "With someone like you around here, who needs a war?" Still she turned back though, grinding her teeth as her limbs threatened to collapse on her. Her body was expecting the control of another, awaiting the Other's orders on how to next act. Her eyes burned, heated as she could slowly see her dark pink eyes glowing back at her from within her head.
Beatrice shook her head, snapping her maw in frustration as she slowly began to pick up her sluggish pace, yet unable to bring herself into a full run. Though her patience for the male was dead and buried, it didn't mean she would be willing to subject him to her wrath. No, scratch that.
Tris just didn't want to have to deal with fighting her Other self for control of the body again after she beat the jackass into a bloody pulp. Besides, blood was insanely hard to wash off, and while the Other might not mind looking like something from a nightmare, Tris had a very much different opinion about appearances...
"C'mon, lemme play~"
Tris scowled, groaning when Trigger's voice finally reached her. Already she cursed the damn boy to Hell as many times as she could before the Other's laughter cut her off. "But then, watching you two bicker is insanely entertaining. By all means, do continue."
Something about most males not having a backbone these days was the next sentence, she ignored her as she called back her own voice. Perhaps if she could at least try to amend this hellish situation, her control wouldn't be jeopardized as much as it currently was..?
"How many do you know of that don't judge based on gender?" she called back at length, tone apologetic despite her belief that he in no way deserved it. Trigger hissed in her mind but she kept the proverbial cold shoulder up. "You'll take your leave and I'll take mine. Seeing as how quickly a near fight brewed up, I sincerely hope you and I never cross paths again."
Even if she'd been the one to first speak, and he held that horrific attitude before she'd even muttered a word, she wanted nothing more than to run and erase this meeting from her mind. Her pace picked up and she, with a lack of better terming, began to flee the scene without another word. Beatrice would even admit whole-heartedly she was running, though more from conflict rather than the stallion himself. Compared to the demons she'd seen, he was hardly a fright. If anything, in her mind he classed as the classic "pathetic male," a prime example as to why combative individuals were best stricken from the world if anyone wanted any peace around here.
Who knows - maybe she'd get lucky and he'd pick a fight with a Skinwalker.
((Sorry for Tris up and leaving - Rp could still continue if you'd like, but unless you wanted Trigger to come out and her and Chandar head towards a "hoof-fight", not too sure were else to let this go owo;;; ))
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