Post by katiekitten on Mar 30, 2009 20:20:57 GMT -5
This is open, if you wish to post - although I do understand that I have left this in an interesting situation. xD
The [splintering] lavish affections of a self consumed mind-[/center][/color][/font]
Baroque believed in power. He believed in strength. Self confidence and determination rode on the back of these fundlemental foundations, as it were- charging like stallions across the metaphorical sea, hatred burning like smouldering ashes in their gaping mouths, their fleeting hooves. It had the ability to consume, to swallow those mortals who saw fit to grasp at the whipped tails in pathetic attempts to gain success, but HE was not like them. HE would not be ruled, but would rise. Not mortal, no- not at all.
(Megalomania takes many forms.)
Cloven hooves thundered across the twisted plain, shards of gravel chipping slowly at the gashed nails that risked laming him, but he tore on through the pain, nostrils flared with exhilaration. The eastern wind tore along his ruffled pelt, twisting around his dusty grey legs and freezing his sweat into ice shards that dug into his skin. He could not stop. Would not. For if he did, the one that galloped close behind would win, and he would lose, which he could NOT accept. He pressed himself harder, arcing his neck against the cold. The sacrifices he'd made had been neccessary, and this- irritation was miniscule in comparison. In half a mile he'd be over the border, and he could finish what he'd started.
A trumpeting scream erupted behind him.
"You- Bastard! Coward!" The roan stallion strove to gain his tail, ears pressed furiously to the back of his head, eyes mad and rolling. "You fucking-"
The land dipped beneath his feet, furrows heralding the edge of the withered country, and Baroque checked his pace to clear a crumbling hillock side and swung himself to the right, the curse of the roan effectively cutting itself off as it strove to steady its pace and follow. Aisad had always talked to much for his own good, and more often than not thought outloud like a foal learning its lines. He snorted. He couldn't understand his plans, none of them could- HE would raise a land to the feet of the tattered sea and scorn the waves, confined as they were to the watery depths! He'd seen it. It was only a matter of time.
Stones daggered up more frequently between the dried prarie grass, and he recognised the signs- the ford was close. He was going to make it. Picking up his pace into a frenzied gallop, he tore across the treachorous meadow. The panting breath of Aisad was close now, so close- he could feel the roan's strangled curses clutching at his tail, and he forced his feet faster, froth flicking from his gaping maw. He was seconds from freedom- seconds-! and gods be damned if he fell now-
Drumming hoofbeats at his flanks, the scrape of teeth, the bumped verge beneath his forefeat, and finally the roar of water beneath him as he threw himself forward-
The scramble of tangled hooves on loose footing and a single, wavering scream.
Silence.
OOC: 'Ello. :3 I'll write the personality sheets later~
Baroque and Aisad
[/size][/color]The [splintering] lavish affections of a self consumed mind-[/center][/color][/font]
Baroque believed in power. He believed in strength. Self confidence and determination rode on the back of these fundlemental foundations, as it were- charging like stallions across the metaphorical sea, hatred burning like smouldering ashes in their gaping mouths, their fleeting hooves. It had the ability to consume, to swallow those mortals who saw fit to grasp at the whipped tails in pathetic attempts to gain success, but HE was not like them. HE would not be ruled, but would rise. Not mortal, no- not at all.
(Megalomania takes many forms.)
Cloven hooves thundered across the twisted plain, shards of gravel chipping slowly at the gashed nails that risked laming him, but he tore on through the pain, nostrils flared with exhilaration. The eastern wind tore along his ruffled pelt, twisting around his dusty grey legs and freezing his sweat into ice shards that dug into his skin. He could not stop. Would not. For if he did, the one that galloped close behind would win, and he would lose, which he could NOT accept. He pressed himself harder, arcing his neck against the cold. The sacrifices he'd made had been neccessary, and this- irritation was miniscule in comparison. In half a mile he'd be over the border, and he could finish what he'd started.
A trumpeting scream erupted behind him.
"You- Bastard! Coward!" The roan stallion strove to gain his tail, ears pressed furiously to the back of his head, eyes mad and rolling. "You fucking-"
The land dipped beneath his feet, furrows heralding the edge of the withered country, and Baroque checked his pace to clear a crumbling hillock side and swung himself to the right, the curse of the roan effectively cutting itself off as it strove to steady its pace and follow. Aisad had always talked to much for his own good, and more often than not thought outloud like a foal learning its lines. He snorted. He couldn't understand his plans, none of them could- HE would raise a land to the feet of the tattered sea and scorn the waves, confined as they were to the watery depths! He'd seen it. It was only a matter of time.
Stones daggered up more frequently between the dried prarie grass, and he recognised the signs- the ford was close. He was going to make it. Picking up his pace into a frenzied gallop, he tore across the treachorous meadow. The panting breath of Aisad was close now, so close- he could feel the roan's strangled curses clutching at his tail, and he forced his feet faster, froth flicking from his gaping maw. He was seconds from freedom- seconds-! and gods be damned if he fell now-
Drumming hoofbeats at his flanks, the scrape of teeth, the bumped verge beneath his forefeat, and finally the roar of water beneath him as he threw himself forward-
The scramble of tangled hooves on loose footing and a single, wavering scream.
Silence.
OOC: 'Ello. :3 I'll write the personality sheets later~
