happy halloween! open

[Ŧrέpαs]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!
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>> pistons dug at the delicate earth, ripping up grass and scattering dirt as they thundered past. a massive body frame of brown and white sailed over the plains, pillars extending far and wide to carry him at the fastest speed possible. ribbons of black and white danced in the wind behind him, floating through the oxygen like a victorious flag. his dark brown orbs cast a chocolate gaze over the lands, shifting too and fro as he took head to his ever changing surroundings. towers lay flat against a massive skull, creating as little air resistance as possible. his breathing was loud, deep. paperthins were flared wide, delivering the ultimate amount of oxygen to his lungs, his muscles.

>> it had been but a day since trepas had arrived here, and he had decided to take his low-life self somewhere interesting. this land was quite desolate, only a few equines roaming here and there. but they would no doubt prosper and thrive one day. he could feel it. these lands had potential, and one day would be filled with equine life. like a settlement, they would someday grow to a magnificent capital. the day was coming.

>> sprinting gallop was slowed to an extended trot, aerials pricked and swerving here and there, listening for any other horses or creatures, alas, there was no one here. he felt a slight dissapointment flood over him, but shook it off immediately with a toss of his massive skull. there was no reason to be down! he was new here, and he must give it time. chocolate gaze swept over his surroundings. it looked as though he had come across a type of swamp. muzzle lifted to the air, paperthins flared, he inhaled. brute had been expecting to grimace at the putrid odor that most swamps create, but was pleasantly surprised to smell nothing. how strange. a swamp that didn't reek? he cocked his head, slowing to a walk as he neared the water. it didn't look dirty, it didn't smell dirty. puzzled expression upon his maw, he slowly lowered his head to the water, giving it one last sniff before gently sliding his mug under the surface. it didn't even taste bad! what a relief. he drank his fill, sighing heavily out of pure contentment. cranium was lifted from the pool, orbs blinked slowly. this place was relatively nice; nothing he'd ever expected. he gave one last look around, chains slashing at his rump as he did so, causing the flies that had landed there to scatter. seemingly calm, the stallion dropped his head to the earth, settling in for some much deserved grazing.

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word count: four - four - nine
puppet: trepas
muse: eh, some
notes: im working on his header =]

[Gracieux]

les actions parlent plus fort que les mots!

[/right]début!

As was her usual habit, Gracieux resided within the swamps each time she found herself abandoned. These days, this sad state of affairs seemed to repeat itself with ever bolder recurrence. Once, twice, three times now! And all in a single year… and the one stallion she had considered would hardly spare her a passing glance. Many times she had decided that she was better off on her own, but each time an opportunity presented itself that seemed idiotic to pass up. It was much to the urging of her distemper that each and every blessing proved itself too good to be true.

With all this coming in honesty, it was for the fourth time that she came to reside here. She hoped vainly that it would be the last recurrence of the event, but knew that her hope was almost certain to fall unfulfilled. Gracieux’s confidence was waning in her misery.

Even so, her chiseled head was held high, obsidian-black eyes peering out from a silver-blue backdrop, black forelock falling as a curtain over one. The velvety, black fur about her muzzle ruffled ever so lightly in the deep, composed breaths taken in by flared nostrils. Standing fetlock-deep in the crystalline waters, her Arab lineage urged her tail upwards, thus denying it contact with the mirror-like surface.

Occasionally an ear flickered, but for a long while she stood simply in watch. A grove of trees stood nearby, and every noise from within was anticipated with little return. Becoming bored, and convinced now that she was thoroughly alone, a slow pace was picked up and then urged into a trot. Water came up about her sides and deepened the blue hue of her pelt as its depth became greater. A familiar place - a water-logged isle of sorts - was recalled and taken up once more. From this vantage, Grace considered herself to be at the center of the swampy area. She could see in every direction for a distance, except behind her where the grove of trees now lay.

An ear flickered, the sound of a bird picked up. Turning her head toward it, she was surprised to find another off in the distance. Gender could not be surmised, and so she was unsure if it would be to her advantage to approach. Could it hurt? Maybe.

Intent on composure, her approach was made gathered and quiet. A bit of the span was trotted when the water level was low, as the soppy, slick bottom was unappealing and dangerous to her. Stopping at a bank, perhaps fifty yards off, a snort left her, forelegs pulling off the ground in a low, purposeful rear, attempting to gain attention.

fin!

[Ŧrέpαs]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!
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>> chomp. chew. chomp. chew. it seemed like he'd been doing this for quite a while now. one last bite and his barrel was pleasantly full. aerials flicked too and fro as he lifted his head from the ground, chewing and swallowing the last bit of grass that he still had left. mug twitched, and he snorted loudly, feeling a slight tickle up his nasal passages. a sneeze escaped him, and he snorted again, lightly tossing his crania. chocolate gaze swept over the premise once again, noting nothing different as was before. chains slashed at his rump, aerials drooping lazily as his hooves picked up into a walk. he wandered a bit further around the swamp, towards the side that he had not explored. there was a large grove of trees here, but he decided not to explore those today. another time maybe.

>> just as he was busy gazing into the dark depths of the foresty hollow, a sound penetrated his aerials, surprising him. they flicked backward, head turning, brown eyes searching for the culprate. was that? it was! another horse! how had he missed it before? a quick lookover revealed to the brute that the equine was half-way soaked, and therefore had obviously just emerged from the water. that must have been why he missed it. it? he raised he mug to the air, sniffing softly. ah, it was a vixen. he shifted his body, completly interested now as she reared slightly, obviously seeking his attention. low nicker escaped his windpipes as his pillars carried him slowly towards the aqua tinged vixen.

>> trepas stopped a good two yards away from her, tossing his head and snorting softly. he wanted her to know he came in peace, no cruel intentions ever crossing his mind. aerials pricked towards her, swerved, then were stationary again. though he wasn't showing it, he was beaming inside. finally! a horse that seemed interested in at least his company. though he wouldn't admit it, a few more days of isolation would have driven him mad. he may be somewhat quiet, but he did always love good company. chains were tossed before caressing his feathery hocks once more. the maiden stood a good few hands shorter than him, and he felt like smiling at what seemed to him her very petite frame. kissers finally parted, releasing a melody, one he himself hadn't even heard in a day. "greetings, mi'lady. the name's trepas." he ducked his cranium in greeting, paying her the respect she most certainly deserved. he didn't mean to seem dry, but what else was he supposed to say to a mare he just so happened to so randomly come upon?

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word count: four - five - two
puppet: trepas
muse: some
notes: aww. i like her already. hehe

[Gracieux]

les actions parlent plus fort que les mots!

[/right]début!

Success! She was rather pleased with herself now that his attention had been gained. There was nothing she desired more than the coddling, affection and endless attention of another. At least this revelation, his response and approach, had her halfway to her goal. What use was she, the pretty little darling, if there was no one there to tell her they loved her, or how pretty she was? Without that, she was nothing, for she had no skills besides those of the rearing of foals and being a trophy for the hypothetical mantle of some male. Some could have thought her a ditz, but behind those batting eyelashes and silky forelock lay a manipulative and needy mind. Indeed, she could be persuasive if the need were to present itself.

Gracieux nodded her head in a beckoning way as he moved in her direction, a second soft snort escaping her nostrils, dancing lightly with her front hooves in anticipation. She felt a bit desperate, but it was understandable, really. How could she not be when she had been abandoned so many times? She did not even have kin to travel with, for her first and only foal had died in the bitterest stretch of his first winter. This was not something she ever spoke of, however, and she tried her best not to recall the pain of it. Through time she had even tried to replace the lost baby that she yearned so heartfully for, but no stallion had stuck around her long enough to fulfill the simple wish. Her mates seemed to end up being prone to death and disappearance.

When he stopped near her, she managed to subdue her excitement for fear of intense embarrassment bestowing its bitter taste upon her tongue. He did not need to see her be so antsy. Then again, he did not need to see her wet and muddy up to her fetlocks, either… but there they were.

Words came, her delicate ears pricked forward on top of her dainty skull in the most attentive of manners. “Mmm, Gracieux,” she responded, the words coming in her usual way: sickeningly sweet and tinged with the faintest whim of wickedness. One black fore hoof was lifted, placed closer to him in a tentative, testing approach. She felt the need to test the waters with every new stud, and always wondered what he thought he was going to get.

Another hoof lifted and planted, neck stretched a bit to look him over. He seemed the build of her last fallen beau, but with more color, fewer silly unicorn horns, and plenty more manners. All in all, he was decidedly better. She only hoped that he would keep those manners.

“You’re not a usual here,” the statement was more of a question. “I would know you, Darling. Where are you coming from?”

fin!

[Ŧrέpαs]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!
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>> snort billowed from his notrils into the crisp air, eyes narrowing slightly. he had noticed the fact that he had possibly what? offended her? he had been around females long enough to read their body language, and he was catching onto this one's rather easily. hye blinked slowly as she spoke. forgive her? there was nothing to forgive. he nodded his head softly, his eyes speaking the words that his kissers wouldn't. i hear you. i understand you. and he felt for her. she was a grown mare, and had obviously been through a lot. based on the way she was acting and reacting to him, he could tell that she wouldn't stand for anything less than she wanted...or deserved. or so he hoped. audits perked up a bit as she spoke her next words. he smirked a bit, skull being cocked slightly to one side, left front hoof being stamped as he swished his multi-coor tassles. improve his chances? who said they needed improving?! but he liked her edge, none the less.

>> a snort left his paperthins, muscles suddenly still as her velveteens came in contact with his thick boa, trailing across the warm fur. what was this? what exactly was she trying to do her? seduce him? hmph. skull was shook as she removed her mug, a soft sigh leaving his lungs. females...they sent mixed messages...he watched then as she first moved to the water's edge, then retreated rather quickly. he snorted, smiling. "what? don't like your feet to get wet?" there was no mocking in his tone now, just sincere curiosity and humor. funny little pony. his aerials perked up again as she spoke, andhe couldnt help but to smile. she liked the mountains, eh? he watched her pools now as they moved over the expanse of the reflective liquid surface. he couldn't help but to smile again as she spoke of stone? was this planned, or just a rather surprising coincidence. he smiled. "what a funny coincidence. i happen to have just claimed a land known as southpaw cliff. im sure that would be..eh..rocky enough for you." he laughed, the light in his chocolate orbs sparkling. the smile remained upon his velvetene mug until she started speaking of those bad experiences he had questioned her about. she had a colt? multiple mates? and her dam and sire as well? he sighed, twin peaks fallling sadly to either side of his skull. "i'm sorry." he glanced away, looking out over the swamp. he could have said so uch more, but instead he remained quiet.

>> growing quickly tired of this remorse he was feeling for her, he tried to shake it off with a laugh. if she grew to trust him, then he would be completly comfortable with talking this over with her, but that was only if she wanted too, and he doubted that that moment was now. they had barely just ment. he snorted, nipping playfully at her right flank. "come home with me? you'd be my first mare." he smiled like a lovestruck young colt. he was proud to call himself a king! and would be even prouder if he was actually able to develop a herd. maybe it would all begin with this here pixie.

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word count: five - five - five
puppet: trepas
notes: im feeling a plot eventually?

[Gracieux]

les actions parlent plus fort que les mots!

[/right]début!

Gracieux’s past had formed a creature bitter and untrusting. No matter how vehemently she searched for a new home, it was always in vain. She knew in her that nothing was permanent, even though permanence was her greatest goal, and was sure that any wing she lay beneath would soon pull itself away to leave her to fester in loneliness again. Still, her excitement was one impossible to contain. The possibility, however slight or slanted it were, was still enthralling. She would take what came to her. In her time since leaving the herd of her father she had been humbled (if only ever so slightly) in nature from a princess to maybe only a countess. She had become more pliable, let her standards fall. It finally hit her that there was no perfection: even so, she still searched for it. Her hopes did not dwindle even though her expectations had fallen away.

A nod, she returned no answer, still inspecting him. She was no wicked being, only a spoiled child that had never been made to grow up, now thrown into a world where daddy did not answer her every whim in step. As logical as it may have seemed, she would never assimilate. The first three years of her life had been relative luxury, and she yearned for that again. She did not like sleeping alone, freezing in the winters. She could not stand the silence of solitude. Oftentimes, she would simply speak to the air. Grace quite enjoyed the sound of her own voice. Every mate she had taken in her time alone had been a pretty face with nothing to back it up. It occurred to her many times that she should have never been so insolent, that she should have stayed with her family. It had been a truly pigheaded decision.

At his words, a soft snort left her and her neck returned the skull atop it to its usual lofty state. The black strands of her tail, which brushed the ground, struck her hind legs a few times in riddance. He seemed to go into a daze for a moment and her ears fluttered back for an instant, already feeling anger at the thought of being ignored. It was all the restraint she had not to stamp a foot at him. “I see,” the words fell drawn out and softly as he shook himself back into focus. Ears perked up again, but she looked at him suspiciously.

An advance? She watched his foot shift position from the corner of her eye, without moving a muscle. Grace was more than willing to take any such movement as a challenge, but she would let him play out a bit. As was her usual state, her body never fell into a relaxed position. Always was the jaw at an angle parallel to the earth below, neck held gathered upward (for she could have held a Napoleon Syndrome of a sort), tiny black hooves planted evenly and firmly, tail draped over the side of one hind leg. When she came to know someone, the guard would be let down… but only to an extent. Never would she allow herself to be seen in a state of shambled disrepair.

Complements and questions. She enjoyed the way he almost mocked her own honey-sweet words, almost dripping, oozing, suffocating. Most would have been so prideful as to pretend not to notice. Most felt as though she was talking down to them. She was. Lord, how she was. “I quite like it, myself,” another deliberate, planned footstep. Her muzzle was allowed within an inch of his own, exhaling a soft wisp of warm air. It left as her body continued forward a few more feet. Shoulders adjacent, she stopped. “I’m living,” she told him, almost sorrowfully but still composed. “This is what I’ve been reduced to. It’s… rather sad.”

fin!

[Ŧrέpαs]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!
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>> Eyes were narrowed; sultry and ablaze as he watched the vixen ever so closely. He noted her slow head nod, brain ticking away ever so slowly, trying to place this strange azul pixie. How amazing would it be if he had the power not only to see one's exterior, but also to see their interior. It was be an insight into their world. What they loved vs. hated. What they dreamed about, feared. What made them tick. Would that not be the most amazing of any Power? The thought of so much strength made him smile. That was one secret about our dear friend Trepas. Although he tried not to show it, he really could be quite the power hungry bastard. Not the kind of power used to win over damsels and keep them in line; oh no, not even close. He sought after positions, rankings. The hierarchy was both his best friend and his most dangerous enemy. Thankfully, no blood or tears had been shed as he came upon these lands, as there were open terras for grabs, and he wasted no time in claiming his, Southpaw Cliff.

>> Just thinking of the fact that he was actually a King, after years of fighting with the bastards that ruled over him, sent a wave of chills down his thick spine. It was about damn time. He'd waited for years to finally claim his throne. There was a part of him that wished his father were around to see this. And no, not just his father, but his entire family. The whole damn herd! A smile curved it's way upon his kissers, pools blining slowly as his aerials flipped towards the damsel. She seemed to have been pondering, he was curious what over, and now looked about ready to speak. She mumbled a quick response, her own ears perking up a bit. He noted the way she had watched him when he stepped closer, and found her amused reaction quite entertaining. The vixen held herself very rigid, almost on edge, and Trepas wondered if she was prepared to run...or possibly attack. Ears pricked, he tilted his skull slightly, wondering what made her this way. It could have possibly been the large height difference. A lot of shorter horses seemed to act uncomfortably around him. Her next words made him smile, and he couldn't help but to smirk at their little game. She claimed she liked being alone? Very interesting. She had moved closer, and his velvet muzzle was tucked a bit closer to his chest now, making it easier to see the petite vixen. He felt so large compared to her fragile frame. His own pillars seemed massive next to her own delicate ones. It made him feel somewhat powerful. Letting out a short snort-like chuckle, he closed the space between them, narrowly passing by her own body, so close his skin brushed hers. As he passed, he lowered his mug to one of her aerials, whispering one word. "Liar." The tone was meant to be playful, but may have come off a little rough. Even he didn't prefer to be alone all the time. He of all horses, the King of isolationism. She didn't want to be alone; he could feel it in her presence, smell it in the air. She was a wonderful actress.

>>He continued his slow journey around her visage, always keeping the slightest of contact between his body and hers. Back at her head once more, he turned to face her. He pondered his next words carefully, paying close attention to the way she spoke her own. "You seem dissapointed with the way you are living. What exactly do you seek?" His tone was respectful once more, full of serious question. Well well well; couldn't he just turn on the charm, eh? Seems he can turn it off just as easily.

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word count: six - six- two
puppet: trepas
muse: gaining more =]
notes: none

[Gracieux]

les actions parlent plus fort que les mots!

[/right]début!

Gracieux knew well how the next long while with him would be spent if he chose to stick around. She would have to pick him apart, test him, make sure he was pliable enough to suit her as well as forceful enough to keep her and intent enough to protect her. She would waste no further time on him if he turned out to be a charade, a façade, a hoax. She thought of herself highly, something near perfection if not reaching it! Who would turn something like that down? Who would be stupid enough to tell her no? Obviously only someone without half a brain. As wicked and controlling as she could be, if you kept her safe she would repay you well enough.

Liar. The word met her eardrums, echoing there for a moment. The only movement made was to tip her muzzle toward him and peer back out of the corner of her eye. A soft snort left her, dry but amused. And he thought he was… what? Each stallion she met thought that he alone was the most clever, resourceful, brutish thing alive. She knew better than to buy into these acts. Grace knew what he would eventually demand, and had simply learned to milk these idiot beasts for a thousand times more than she would ever equal in new life.

Feeling him move about her, she maintained her gathered state. She enjoyed this: to be looked at, pondered over. It gave her the satisfaction that she may soon be on her way to accomplishing a feverishly desired goal. The contact made her skin crawl in the most pleasant of ways and her tail swished half-heartedly at her hips. “Oh, be a gentleman,” she told him, voice soft. “All ladies are liars.” How would they ever get their way if they were not?

With him again in a position of disinterest to her, her body language could again sink back into its slinky, precise mannerisms. “Well of course I am disappointed,” she sulked, the tone purposeful. “This is no place for me.” Wandering a few feet away, she found her hooves again submerged in the murk. She looked back at him over her shoulder. “What do I want? How about some loyalty?”

fin!

[Ŧrέpαs]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!
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>> a slight smile graced the brujo's features upon hearing her next words. he dropped his head a bit, shaking his skull before regaining his posture and looking her in the eyes once more. this vixen was interesting. so far she had done a nice job at keeping him on his toes...hooves...whatever, and he wasn't quite ready to walk away from her; retreat back into his current state of isolated solitude. the mere thought of being alone for any longer wiped the smile clean off his maw, a disgusted grimace taking its place. he had never minded being alone; until now atleast. a few days, even a week was manageable, but he'd been alone for much too long already. a sudden fleeting feeling got his heart racing, an instant look of fear flooding across his features. if this vixen were to walk away...he'd be alone. again. he couldn't let that happen. he couldn't stand it any longer! blinking quite rapidly, he forced the fear to drain from his face and bones, snorting softly as his velvet kissers parted. "my sincerest apologies, mi'lady." a smile found itself once again upon his mug as he took a step forward, gracefully bowing down until his forelock brushed the grass below. it wasn't exactly mocking, more like some innocent teasing.

>> he stood upright once more, pools narrowing a bit as the mood took a sudden shift. aerials pricked towards the fairy, skull being tilted a bit, puzzled expression erasing the smile. so he was right. she was lonely. what else could explain the way she was suddenly acting? a type of relief flooded over him, paired hand and hand with a feeling of sympathy. he knew all too well how it felt to be abandened and alone, and it was probably one of the worst feelings in the world. memories flooded back once more, and the brute could once more see his father's dissapointed facade, fury brewing deep within his charcoal eyes. he forced the images away, focusing in on the femme as she took a few steps away, retreating into the murky water. the step he took forward was unexpected, but he ignored it, instead pondering over what the right words to use at this moment were. the vixen was obviously feeling down on herself, and he wanted to offer up some sort of comfort, but wasn't sure how exactly to do that. abondoning an attempt at the perfect words, he instead just spoke. "this swamp? of course it's not the place for you." he wasn't sure if she had been talking about the swamp in the first place, but continued on none the less. "you seek loyalty? don't we all..." he sighed. "you've had bad experiences, im guessing?"

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word count: four - seven - two
puppet: trepas
muse: eh
notes: none

[Gracieux]

les actions parlent plus fort que les mots!

[/right]début!

The velvety black flesh of her muzzle wrinkled a bit at his mocking apology, her teeth bared ever so slightly in an obviously reprimanding way. In a second the wicked visage softened, but it retained a tinge of disgust. She appreciated his confidence, but would not stand for such things. His job as a stud was to take her, was it not? To take as many pretty little mares as his body could muster! The last time she had checked, access to breeding rights did require some degree of manners, sophistication and charm. Mocking her would only gain him a flesh wound and a damaged ego.

For a long while her only response was a snort and a swish of the tail, ears pinned against her skull. One hoof lifted, another, another. Gracieux’s body carried itself in a rather improvised semi-circle about him. “Well, forgive me for wanting a stallion over a colt,” she told him, airy and smooth, “I’m only trying to improve your chances here, Honey.” Her muzzle met the side of his neck, trailed down it a bit. He was clean enough, she supposed. There was no confusing him with a runt, either. Age would change him for as long as he lived. There was no counting on such a radical trait.

She retreated from the water’s edge rather quickly, finding the feeling of wet fur stuck to her skin to be the most repugnant of sensations. No matter how long she lived here, it was something that never became normal or accepted in her book. She hated how the mud dried to her hooves, the wet ends of her tail sticking to her hind end, the slippery bottom, the sloshy noises when she walked. Surely princesses did not deal with these things! At home, she had not. She longed for home.

“I’m used to the mountains,” she told him, looking out over the endless, mirror-like expanse. The gray sky was becoming on the water’s surface, grassy islands dotting it on occasion. “I’m used to stone… and grass that has not gone fetid.” Somehow grass that was water-logged and muddy would never appease an appetite or a mind. A pleasant meal was more than a full belly.

At his next words, she looked back at him. Black eyes stared for a moment before her lips would part. “Bad experiences… I lost my son and his father, I’ve lost my parents, I’ve lost another stud to… well, who knows what. He was a flake.” Slowly, hooves weaved their way back toward him, each one placed with the utmost care. A bit off of him, her body came to a halt. “Now I just live here. I tell myself I like it until I believe the lies.”

fin!

[Ŧrέpαs]

HAPPY HALLOWEEN!!
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>> snort billowed from his notrils into the crisp air, eyes narrowing slightly. he had noticed the fact that he had possibly what? offended her? he had been around females long enough to read their body language, and he was catching onto this one's rather easily. hye blinked slowly as she spoke. forgive her? there was nothing to forgive. he nodded his head softly, his eyes speaking the words that his kissers wouldn't. i hear you. i understand you. and he felt for her. she was a grown mare, and had obviously been through a lot. based on the way she was acting and reacting to him, he could tell that she wouldn't stand for anything less than she wanted...or deserved. or so he hoped. audits perked up a bit as she spoke her next words. he smirked a bit, skull being cocked slightly to one side, left front hoof being stamped as he swished his multi-coor tassles. improve his chances? who said they needed improving?! but he liked her edge, none the less.

>> a snort left his paperthins, muscles suddenly still as her velveteens came in contact with his thick boa, trailing across the warm fur. what was this? what exactly was she trying to do her? seduce him? hmph. skull was shook as she removed her mug, a soft sigh leaving his lungs. females...they sent mixed messages...he watched then as she first moved to the water's edge, then retreated rather quickly. he snorted, smiling. "what? don't like your feet to get wet?" there was no mocking in his tone now, just sincere curiosity and humor. funny little pony. his aerials perked up again as she spoke, andhe couldnt help but to smile. she liked the mountains, eh? he watched her pools now as they moved over the expanse of the reflective liquid surface. he couldn't help but to smile again as she spoke of stone? was this planned, or just a rather surprising coincidence. he smiled. "what a funny coincidence. i happen to have just claimed a land known as southpaw cliff. im sure that would be..eh..rocky enough for you." he laughed, the light in his chocolate orbs sparkling. the smile remained upon his velvetene mug until she started speaking of those bad experiences he had questioned her about. she had a colt? multiple mates? and her dam and sire as well? he sighed, twin peaks fallling sadly to either side of his skull. "i'm sorry." he glanced away, looking out over the swamp. he could have said so uch more, but instead he remained quiet.

>> growing quickly tired of this remorse he was feeling for her, he tried to shake it off with a laugh. if she grew to trust him, then he would be completly comfortable with talking this over with her, but that was only if she wanted too, and he doubted that that moment was now. they had barely just ment. he snorted, nipping playfully at her right flank. "come home with me? you'd be my first mare." he smiled like a lovestruck young colt. he was proud to call himself a king! and would be even prouder if he was actually able to develop a herd. maybe it would all begin with this here pixie.

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word count: five - five - five
puppet: trepas
notes: im feeling a plot eventually?

[Gracieux]

les actions parlent plus fort que les mots!

[/right]début!

Gracieux often strove to make her wishes obvious, as she did not believe that most males paid enough attention to pick up on whims and fancies that were not set aflame and force-fed to them. Hell, she had tried and tried for days to convince a previous stallion to mount her and he had never even seemed to notice. He must have been defective, she had decided, because he had been put here on this planet to impregnate females and could neither come up with the plan on his own nor respond to her begging. Grace did not figure that there were strict standards for such things, as it was in fact the choosiness of ladies that determined the planting of seed, but knew in her that she should have been the first choice for the attention. The knowledge that she was his only mare made the situation yet more degrading.

Thusly, she had become the most adequate of showmen. She could swish her tail and bat her eyelashes all day, but knew that forceful words were the most effective means. Why parade about in front of some drooling boys, tail up, head up, almost rubbing your hind quarters against their noses when you could simply sweet talk? Well, besides the fact that she quite enjoyed the attention paid by an infatuated male or two. Her act would eventually evolve into something more vicious and intense. Currently though, her touches were the offspring of longing. Gracieux missed the attention she had always been paid with bitter intensity. It was just nice to be touched, and she was rather impatient waiting for him to initiate the motions.

Black eyes stared at him, rather berating. Afraid of the water? She lived here. She was not afraid of water, but of filth and imperfections. There was nothing she enjoyed about the constant state of soggy, water-logged hair and mud-filled hooves. The crunchy chunks that stuck here and there over her body were constantly being groomed out, and she only wished that there was more she could do for the length of her tail. It seemed to drag with little regard through the muck and slime whenever she let it fall. “I just don’t see a reason why I should have to be… dirty,” she told him, setting a hoof in the muddy edge of the island and letting it squish an inch or two into the slush. Her ears flickered back, her face wrinkling in disgust. The hoof was returned to the grass, stamping a couple times to rid it of the majority of debris.

Having lived in the Uchipe Range the entire time since she had left her original herd, it was only natural for her to desire stone and rock over mud and slush. To be honest, she had ventured to the beaches a few times and did not enjoy them either. The water caused her fur to become a salty, matted mess and encouraged sand to stick about her legs and tail in the most unpleasant of fashions. “I’ve never been there,” she told him quietly, still inspecting the mud about her legs in a discreet way. Southpaw Cliff. It sounded familiar as it should, the island not being the most expansive of places, but she could not picture it or recall anyone who had hailed from there. She imagined this Trepas to be the loner king of the place, standing atop the ledge thinking he was hot stuff. He did not seem to be at first glance. “But it must be better than this horrid place.”

His next words, albeit recognized as a tease, could have been taken badly by the hot-headed girl. Why would he advertise himself as inexperienced? Why should he assume she wanted to be his first? Why did he think she wanted to play? Maybe… because it was all true to some extent. His nip was retaliated with a mock bite that never met his flesh. “Well you’re a brave one,” she cooed, unsure if she should be impressed by his forward nature or worried about his frivolous stupidity. Eyes narrowed a bit in thought. There was no way she would allow herself to be overshadowed by later mares, but he probably should not be let onto that.

fin!