Post by =Q.u.e.e.n= on Aug 1, 2006 13:22:59 GMT -5
Badump, Badump, Badump
Obsidian peds pounded the blackened soil that lay cemented to the dreaded earth. Flora that once lived lay limp on the scorched ground. It was positive that a wildfire had previously engulfed this gloomy place. A blackened figure made its way swiftly across the dead, snow-drizzled plain. The figure was not burned, but a coat so black that it would be considered scorched. The being was equus, one of the race of elegantly molded creatures, built for both speed and cunning. But this equus was small, small for her breeding. It was a fae, yes, one of the female breeding. Yet another gender to add to this imperfect world, joy.
The female slowed to an abrupt stop. Her gleaming coat matched the snowy ground. Her thick breaths shot out of her nostrils, like smoke as the steam rose and curled into nothing. Her face, given to her from her cursed parents, a look of elegance from her mother, yet a look of hardness from her father; an unlawful combination it was, but it was nature’s choice, and what a bad choice it was.
The fae’s pendulums pricked in the direction in which a sound of rustling trees was created, not necessarily ‘rustling’ however, as there were no leaves on the trees. What was left of the tree was a snarled mass of limbs, branches and twigs that made a howling sound when the wind passed through them, the tree seemed to scream in pain, it was as if it was alive, but it was cold as the freezing wind tore at its sides. The mare looked away and sighed, her breath noticeable by steam, rising then it seemed to fall as the heated air got colder and colder.
The mare’s name was Rose Blood Queen, she named herself, only just recently. She had lead a nameless life, it was three years before that she narrowly escaped her estranged mother and father; the ones who did not name her. They found that no name would be suitable for a child as hideous as Queen was, even though she was almost as elegant as her mother was.
Her whip was long and the strings dragged on the ground behind her. They were ebony in color, with a wavy crimp, this was also on her banner. Her coat was a glossy obsidian, it was pretty, but Queen did not care about her personal appearance, her young life has been torn in two, except the other half is nowhere to be found. The half that Queen got was a self hatred, one so aggressive that there were times that she felt so sorrowful that self harm would only do her good, it was disappointing. She felt that she could never be healed.
Queen stopped, her peds sinking in a thicker amount of snow, she sighed and looked about, her dark lights peering into the dank woods. She did not know where she was, though it was positive that she was in the claiming grounds, though she would not know. She lived as a loner most of her life, so she did not know most of the herd lingo that went about, but there she was, in a place that she did not know, but would soon discover…
