wicked men tell wicked lies

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

Aderalle watched her rise, heard her grunts, felt some pity well up in him. She did not seem in the best of shape, but was not in the worst of it either. She exuded weathered, sage-like age, wrapped in the package of youth, tied up with some caring, strong, almost motherly thread. It came together to make a creature that, to him, felt ethereal yet grounded. She was above him, but hardly seemed to know it.

A twitch ran through his skin as her jaw met his back, a reaction of surprise that was yet unaccompanied. She seemed too willing to be so close to him... or, perhaps, Addy was just too awkward and antisocial to make such moves. Her words came, somehow moving to his stone heart. The great, olivine head twisted round on its perch. Black eyes stared questioningly for just a moment. His head followed suite, tilting stupidly. The velvet-black muzzle met her side for an instant, hot air from his muzzle escaping against her skin in an almost anguished sigh. “No,” he admitted, “No, I don't. I know nothing.” The words were soft, delicate, wispy. He did not look at her.

Her body left him. He felt as though he could breathe again. Having her so close started to make him anxious, nervous, excited: he was not used to such close contact just yet. The whole situation made him self-conscious and antsy. But her words... they only made him more ridged. What did she mean? Did he really need proof? How could you prove that? A soft snort left him in questioning, gazing back at her. He followed her movements when she left his side, unquestioning but wary.

The clockwork ticked away behind his eyes, considering every possibility as he followed her, only having the whole ordeal click into understanding as she approached the edge and made her magic. How crazy could she possibly be? What was the point of this? She need not prove anything. Especially not to him. What did he mean to her, anyway? About nill. Maybe she was crazy.

His body pulled up next to hers, nudging at her withers in a way he hoped would be something friendly, something caring. “What are you doing? And why?” The questions were soft, a little flustered, a tinge of frustration. “You have nothing to prove to me.” He nudged her neck, an attempt to get her to turn away from the ledge. It was not simply that he believed her tale of immortality, or even influenced by that at all. He could not stand the thought of her becoming injured, especially over something that he could simply talk his way around. He found her tale spectacular beyond reason, but was well aware that it would be proven or disproved in time.

“Come away,” he almost begged, feeling somewhat awkward of the emotion welling up. It was so foreign. “There is no need for this.”

end.

[WaT]

Snorting she tried to take a step back but the hoof scraped against the edge, making bits of soil fall. The mare was far enough. Her ears folded a bit at the nudging. How dare he nudge her away? Hmmm he was trying to protect her in some way. Looking behind her this was a bit foolish. She didn't need him falling with her.

No...something that was more controlled was needed very well Aderalle she cooed. Almost as if nothing had happened the mare walked away from the ledge. Occasional suicide was something she had become accustomed to. For once she just wanted to lay there and die. Then this would be all over.

Tossing her head she scraped her feet against the soil a bit disappointed. Why did he seem to care so much? Licking her lips she looked back at him then snorted. Making sure the beast was a good distance away she stopped and stood there. Looking up at a growing redwood. Maybe it would be a little too convenient for one to fall on her. Pawing at the soil a cool wind blew by gently. Focusing herself she made its force greater. Just enough for a few good sized branches to come tumbling down and land on top of her.

It stopped. Her body had crumbled to the ground underneath the weight. The pain was almost unbearable. So she laid there for a few moments. It wasn't as if she would die right away, her back had only been broken so she would have most likely starved to death. If there were predators around they would have picked her off. Sighing she tried thinking of a way out of this. She could heal herself but what fun would that be?

^{ooc; arggg. not my best >.<}

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

Her words puzzled him slightly, as did the lady before him. What was her problem all of the sudden? Why this suicidal urge? Why did she need to give him “proof?” He guessed that this was all complicated beyond his limited understanding, it being true that he had no idea how she felt or what she was going through. She just seemed to turn on him all the sudden: it was almost as a bipolar or schizoid tantrum, taking over her in an instant. He imagined it would either retreat with the same swiftness, or that this was what she really was and that she had only now uncovered it after gaining his trust. In either case, he was afraid to have her around anymore. If she could be so irrational, could she not turn on him? Her strength was greater than his own! Could she not dismember him with fluidity, with swiftness? He thought she could, and that she probably would. She was just crazy.

“Salma…” the word fell from his lips in a pleading fashion as she moved away from him. He did not dare follow. She seemed… unstable. If only that one word would sum up all the nuances of her state of being! If only he understood what riddled her! He did not. He never would. Aderalle felt defeated. His head slumped from its regality, eyes falling spiritless. He thought she was crazy, but he knew she was not. He felt as if he should disown this whole occurrence, if only to spare him the guilt of what could come. He thought that he should dismiss her, tell her to leave, vanquish her even… but the brute never got the chance.

Crack. Thud. The branches fell. He could not tell if it was his heart or his stomach that wrenched. A wince. A disheartened snort. The smart thing to do would have been to leave her there to suffer in her own doing. He owed her nothing that he could fathom. Yet, he could not. He comforted himself in the idea that he was just doing his care-taker duties on his own land. He ignored the thought that he actually cared for her.

You stupid, stupid girl. A hoof lifted, another. Slowly. He would have moved faster if he had not been so dumbfounded by her actions. He was unsure of what to think.

“Why must you do these stupid things?” The words fell before he could stop them, his muzzle reaching to push at what debris he thought himself capable of dislodging. His voice was quiet, and the words, though crude in meaning, were set free in a tone of concern, of pity, of love. He was not annoyed, but flustered. Not angry, but scared. For one moment, there was nothing crude or cruel within him. As of yet, as little as she would have liked to know it, she was all he had. As crazy as she was, she was it, and Aderalle was defensive of her.

He moved to touch his muzzle behind her ear, nuzzling her there for a second. He was unsure of what else to do with himself. She had hurt him. He felt angry. A snort left him in annoyance. There was nothing left to do besides unbury her from the fortress built by and upon her anger. He set to work in a fashion lacking zeal. Addy felt defeated.

“I mean…” He could hardly form words, “I care for you. And there is no need for this. Why won’t you believe me?”

end.

[WaT]

What? Care for her? She guessed this could have come out at a different time or situation. Sighing the vines began wrapping around a few branches then stopped. Her head slumped a bit and her eyelids shut momentarily. To anyone it might appear as if she had died but she was merely resting. The damsels body glowed softly as everything went back into place. Not being able to feel much, Salma hadn't known her pelvis had been broken as well. This healing seemed to be involuntary, no matter how hard she tried to stop the process it happened anyway.

Feeling renewed the beauty pushed herself up onto her legs. Everything seemed fine for now. The earth sank and rose to flip the sticks off her. Luckily nothing had impaled the body. She hadn't minded his nuzzles and words but they could have come sooner. This was after all just a test. Did not other species test their males by fights and races? Nevertheless he passed. The beast could have simply just left her there assuming she would have died. sorry it's part of who I am. she said softly. Mostly because of how she was raised except modified.

For now she would stay here. Until he passed on at least. Then she would roam again...alone. Slapping her hocks with the white strands the mare walked in front of her friend. I'm not sure why...none of the foals I've had live pass a few hours. she was a bit cold now. Salma wasn't sure what made them die. Maybe the humans had done something to it without her looking. She guessed she could try again but there seemed to be no use. There were no immortal males around. The damsel wasn't sure if she could make immortals. Maybe she could...if she tried to figure it out. She wouldn't put him such tests the humans did. No there were simpler ways to test that theory.

Looking back, she wasn't exactly in front of him more off to the side. Good. He wasn't well enough to create anyway. Maybe she could find another if he didn't get well. There were no others though, to her knowledge at least. This one seemed different anyway. He wasn't boastful or anything like a stallion should be. He was just Aderalle. Another light breeze wafted through her tresses and the mare once again made the grass grow. It seemed to be late afternoon anyway. Looking back to the fallen branches she saw what little potential they could serve. Though a shelter of that small size was little help. Sighing she hadn't really thought about having the vines and trees grow into the shape of something.

Soon six saplings or so began to grow with vines and moss growing weaving their way around them. It formed some sort of lean to with a roof. It was hard to remember such a structure, most had fallen in disrepair. Salma only knew of such a thing from the humans, otherwise they would have slept under the cold sky again. At least now they had something to protect them from the elements. Walking into the structure she inspected it and found it to her liking. It was big enough for three or four horses but would suit the two of them just fine.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

Aderalle felt exasperated with this mare. What did she want from him? Don’t touch her. Touch her. Don’t help her. Help her. Save her, leave her, beat her… keep her? He felt as though she wanted to stay, but was too haughty to admit such a defeat. As of now, he kind of just wanted her to decide he was not up to her standards and leave. If she was going to continue to wound herself for the attention, she could be on her merry little way. She knew he was sick, albeit much better than he had been, and still she tried to push him. He was not an aggressive beast to begin with. He had tried to convince her this was silly, turn her away, lead her off, keep her safe… but she had refused. It was not his fault. He masked a sigh of frustration. Eyes were kept averted from her. Addy tried to convince himself that her suicidal tendencies were nothing to be angry over. It worked, but not as well as it could have.

Eventually, eyes were turned back to her as she attempted to haul her healed body back upon its spindly perches. If he had not felt so used and betrayed, he would have been elated at her health, demonstrating his affection in whatever socially inept way he knew. As of yet, however, he was bitter toward her. Her words only helped to roll that bitterness into anger. How she was? A snort left him, unconvinced. What on Earth was that supposed to mean? Who in their right mind had a state of normalcy in which they tried to jump off cliffs and bash their brains in with tree boughs? Apparently only the lady before him. He thought he may be better off to find a mare that did not belong in the bin. This lass… she was cuckoo.

“That’s a horrible excuse,” he huffed, annoyed. He cared for her, and her actions had caused him to feel as though he was a toy to her. She obviously did not care for him. If she had, she would have thought twice before doing something that would hurt herself or him. Black eyes stared at her from behind the excessive length of black forelock, nostrils flared slightly in distaste on his convex face. But still, he cared. All at once, his eyes softened, his demeanor shifted. “But I’ll… take it.” He sounded defeated, yet relieved.

She moved ahead of him, he was embarrassed by the anger he had harbored. The words that spouted from her next shook him, however, and he forgot all about the previous occurrences for the instant. Foals? Where did that come from? He knew quite well what his tasks were as the lead of a place, that it would require such procreation, but still felt shocked that she would bring such a thing up. I mean, of course if she wanted to talk about babies that had to be what she was getting at. The male may have been a strange one, but his groin was still wired on the most direct route with his brain. It was the purpose of life. It was what he was born to do. “I’ve… no idea, Salma.” Addy had never been near such an immortal before and knew only what she had presented. He kept his distance from her, fearing another depressed outburst, but did not stray. “I’m sorry you‘ve had such bad luck,” The words were genuine. Something in him hurt for her. He felt completely emasculated, inadequate. “Really, I am.” The brute had never found the chance to take a stab at fatherhood, and knew that he felt that to be bothersome. There was nothing in him that could begin to fathom what her loss must have amounted to.

Her structure formed, but the wonder of it all did not deter his mind from its self pity. For the first time in a while he was unsure of what he wanted, needed, had. Did he want this mare? Need her? Have her? What about his home? Addy shook his head, mane flying. Thoughts cleared. He followed Salma to the entrance of the shelter she had built, but did not enter. He peered in quietly, a soft snort came in approval, in recognition of her skills, in vague praise. If he could only maintain these structures she built his land would be much improved.

His head lowered as if to graze, muzzle brushing the grass but never actually taking a mouthful. Ears flickered. In him, a lump of bitterness still wallowed. He could not get over the insult that he felt. Blackened legs moved him a step or two away from the entrance, head raised only enough to guide him in the process, lowered again. He was not sulking, but rather trying not to say anything to her that would be taken negatively. In a moment, the brute gave in. The olive-pelted body made its way back to the entrance, maybe pulling itself halfway in or so. Neck extended, attempting to make contact between his muzzle and her flesh. “Please,” he was earnest, “Please don’t do that ever again.”

end.

[WaT]

Snorting the girl brushed herself up against the structure leaving her aroma on it. There wasn't much else to do except decide on whether she should stay or go. The beach was such a lovely but yet lonely place. Maybe if there were more horses out there she could feel more compelled to return home. of course I won't she said returning his touch. Why would she anyway? At least not in front of him or any time soon.

She felt that there was a purpose for her now. To protect this brute in some way. Stepping out Salma stood looking up at the sky. It seemed at least an hour or two before sunset. She would spend that time grazing then. Taking a few more steps her head lowered and began pulling. There wasn't really a reason to run off to find greener pasture when it was growing late. She could make grass grow pretty much anywhere anyway. I wish to stay. she said quietly before taking half a mouthful. There wasn't much else she could say. Salma was more of the quiet type and preferred to show her feelings through actions.

Scraping the tip of her horn against the soil she sighed. If only she could get rid of this for awhile. Hadn't she thought about that before? Oh well. These days her mind wandered around the same subject many times in one day. Taking a few more steps she moved slowly away, bidding her time and trying to eat her fill before sunset. She hated going to bed hungry and grazing at night in this season was out of the question.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

He was relieved at her words, her touch. Addy craved stability; in his home, in his health, in his company. All he wanted was to feel for once that the beings around him were dependable. She did not seem to be in the least, but at least her words felt calming to a beast that was plagued by jitters and fear. He did not answer her, nothing seeming needed or correct. What was he to say? Thank you? Thank you for what? He would have felt more compelled to act disgruntled and tell her that she had better not. Alas, it was not within him.

Her body passed him, exiting the place. Black eyes followed her lazily, but he did not strain himself in the least. He was trying to trust her, trying not to run after her every time she made a move… trying to only be half convinced that every move she made was rogue or suicidal. As her head lowered, the tenseness within him dispersed. His jaw was rubbed against the entrance, convincing the bark to relieve the itchiness in his skin which the dry, cold air wrought. He did not watch her, but ears did listen with much intent.

Stay? Stay! He was half elated, half terrified. Somehow through the process of this thing he had managed to gain everything he had convinced himself that he did not want. He hat gotten his land and his food, water, shelter - all good… but somehow now his hormones, emotions and lack of charm had combined to bring him a life to take care of, responsibility, new goals. But, being who he was, there was nothing in him that would turn her away. Aderalle was a being with little resolve. His head turned to her, black hooves moved tentatively in her direction. “Then stay,” he told her, nudging her side. He enjoyed her company, but felt awkward about her. He did not feel as though he was the leader here, or that she would play the role he expected her to. At the end of the day, Addy was still raised as his father’s son, and still expected some subservience - even though he would likely never have the heart to demand it of her.

He moved a few steps away and his head lowered as well. Acting picky for the moment, he plucked up a strand here, there. Truly, he did not feel hungry, but knew he would be in the early morning. He usually was. But then, he did not follow the regime or scheduled life of any herd. For the longest time he had just roamed alone, doing as he pleased when he pleased. He dreaded the idea that he may have to return to the way of life once more. He did not care if it were healthier or better for him.

Some fluttering in the trees, his ears flickered. He longed silently for the warm spring sun on his back. The olivine brute felt much improved in his health, but cold still magnified the illness’ effects. Perhaps though, Addy was just having a pity party. In reality, he was probably good enough to return to his carefree life of days past. Maybe in the morning he would declare himself once again as the magnificent thing he once was. Maybe. If he could pack on the muscle that illness had weighed. If he could remove months of tangles and debris from his mane and tail. Eh. He would get to it in time. Right now, he probably just needed to pack on some fat. This cold weather would wreak havoc on him. He felt as though his bones had no cushion and simply scraped together. He ripped determinedly at the grass beneath him. That’s right, Addy, you tell hat grass who’s boss.

A few mouthfuls in, he stopped to look at her. He wanted to say something, but there was nothing.

end.

[WaT]

An hour seemed to pass by and the mare took little notice of it. Only when it was much darker did her head lift and try searching for the horizon. Time for bed. She could eat more tomorrow. Stretching her bulky yet somehow graceful frame out the old girl paced back to the shelter. By now a thick bed of moss was covering the floor. Laying down the mare sighed in comfort. This was so much better than the cold hard ground.

Yes, this added some cushion and warmth. Something they both would need if it the weather were to somehow get worse. Not much was said to the brute as she laid there, staring up at what little sky she could see. A few moments passed by and the vines grew greedily in reinforcement. Just in case. Being about hundred years old did have its advantages she guessed. Without the humans she wouldn't know how to build such a structure, simple as it was.

She had watched them build a few in her time. This was much better as it was living. Not dead wood that couldn't heal itself or that needed to be repainted or replaced. Breathing softly the mare's nose dipped slightly as she relaxed and began drifting off. They were gone and most likely never coming back. The only thing she seemed to miss was their treats and companionship. Of some really. The stable hands that fed and pet her. Those scientists were more or less loathed, some were good though. In some way.

Sleepily opening her eyes Salma laid down on her side. It seemed much more comfortable to lay like this than like that. Once again her eyes looked around not really being able to see the brute, though her nose picked him up quickly. Snorting she slowly closed her eyes and drifted off again. Maybe her dreams would be pleasant this time around. Usually they were of the past. Of her mother and how Salma watched over her in the mare's old age; until finally she died in her sleep. Sometimes they were if the humans had stayed and how things would be more controlled. How even she might be under chains due to their fear of the unpredictable.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

He said nothing to her as she moved to lie down within the confines of her shelter, but moved a step or two in her direction. The darkness falling on them signaled sleep, whether he welcomed the action or not, and he thought her justified in giving in to the beckoning calls of night and slumber. The forest itself shadowed him and his fellows within it well enough to ignite a constant lull, a casual darkness that kept his land in a generally moist, warm, dewy state. He thought it pleasant, a comforting state of warmth, mulled over a thousand times by the previous inhabitants of the place. They, too, must have succumbed to this as casualties of bliss.

The colt’s moss-colored body was riddled with the occasional shiver and shake, thin skin sliding in a disgusting manner over exposed ribs and sinew. He had taken many months to fall into such disrepair, but it would soon be rectified. With Salma’s help, as well as his voracious appetite, Addy could soon be the beauteous beast that he once was. In search of a solution to his chills, he eventually brought himself half within the shelter which still pulled itself slowly, intricately together. His barrel leaned against an upright beam of foliage, cloven, deer-like hooves crushing beneath them some of the delicate, spongy moss that she had called forth.

His head lowered, eyes half closed in imminent slumber. She fell away, asleep before him on the mossy bed. Eyes wavered, closed. In a moment, they opened again as she moved. A hind hoof lifted as he shifted to lean against the post in a more relaxed manner. Eyes closed again. He took her cue. Sleep.

Many times in the night he was disturbed, shaken awake by some insignificance. A bird fluttering, rearranging itself in its nest as it tried to shield out the winter’s cold. A settling of a fallen tree as its insides crumbled with rot. A paranoid remembrance within the state of lucidity in a dream. He sometimes fell immediately back into slumber, sometimes stood awake for what seemed like hours. It was in the last of these that he stood, cursing his lack of rest, watching the sun begin to penetrate the dense canopy of the Redwoods. He gave in. There was no chance to sleep now - not unless he found himself alone at some point during the day.

Dapples of light began to fall on his rump, into the entrance of the shed in which they were housed. A sigh, he watched her sleep for a moment before engaging himself to turn away and out. He would graze now, until she woke. He was unsure of what business they had at the moment, but knew it improper to leave her be until she was ready for such.

end.

[WaT]

For once her sleep was undisturbed by dreams of havoc. They were sad though. Visions of what could have been if it not have been for her immorality. A herd and foals that lived well beyond a few hours after being born. They so quickly seemed to fade away. What were once strong were now so weak and frail that the mare stirred a bit in her slumber. Finally what morning light peaked through the canopy rested on a closed eye. Without even open a lid, she got up and shook herself off. Head held low she snorted and grumbled a bit.

A restful sleep but perhaps too restful. Stretching out, Salma's eyes finally opened to the view of the brute grazing. Walking out she brushed a side up against him. good morning... she said softly before resting her head upon his withers. She was trying to be a regular herd member. in a way she hoped she was succeeding. It had been a long time since someone else was in charge, that she found herself almost leading the way at times. What little stability he did offer though was welcomed. Rubbing her along his barrel she snorted softly at the smell of his fur. Leader or not in spring he would take a bath. Whether he willingly did so or not. The stench wasn't unbearable, it just smelled like dirt...and sweat and more dirt.

She was surprised that his original scent could be picked up at all, underneath all the twigs and dirt. Her last leader hadn't been all that clean either though. Maybe she just liked boys that played in the dirt and mud then? Pulling herself away, the mare rubbed her chin against a foreleg before taking in breakfast for herself. If there was only some way to grow chewed up bits of grass, then all that would be needed was a bit of swallowing. That would be too easy though and such a thing was impossible. what are we going to do today Aderalle? she cooed looking back at the beast.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

Heavy skull sunk low, muzzle brushing the tips of feathery blades which tickled him, causing the occasional snort or contortion of his velvet soft, fleshy upper lip. When a mouthful was chosen amongst the skimming, it was plucked up with precision that was well beyond Aderalle’s normal display. The growing feeling of contentedness within his stomach was pleasant and he only craved more. With his current residence plucked free of prize pickings, he moved forward a step or two, the actions showing little intent. New frost-tipped blades of grass came before him. The process started over. The beast looked forward to health.

When she stirred within the shelter, his ears flickered to listen to her movements, an eye turned, the white of it showing in an attempt to see her. Her position was too far to the rear of him and he was forced to lift his head to a half-erect position, crane the lengthy neck born unto him around. A soft nicker left him as she stood grumbling within the lean-to. He resisted questioning her grumpiness. There was no reason to. He returned to his breakfast, tail slapping at his olive-glazed flanks to deter the morning’s pests.

Her body met his own, to his surprise, in the midst of his pest removal, the ends of it likely slapping her legs. Addy said nothing of it, for he thought nothing of it. Her soft words echoed in the morning silence, the birds having only begun awakening, filling the space with the beginnings of chatter and song. He swallowed. Her jaw met his withers. “Good morning, Salma.” His tone matched hers, soft, though somewhat tired. Another mouthful, another swallow. She snorted and he ignored it, thinking nothing of it. He thought his scent natural. Now, the debris in his mane and tail and the cracking of his hooves… they were another thing. He could have lived without those. Unfortunately, he had no device of his own for such removal.

Salma’s touch departed him and his grazing stopped momentarily to look up at her as she scratched and began to partake in the nourishment herself. He ran his tongue over his teeth, finding himself parched but unobliged to correct the issue for the moment. Again, blades were ripped up from the roots. Again. Again. Until she spoke to him. He pondered on it a moment. What should they do? His head lifted to its usual casually half raised position. “Gonna’ find that water, first off,” he told her thoughtfully, recalling again the dryness of his gums and tongue, the chapping of his nostrils in the cold night air. “Then, I suppose, we do whatever we please.” Life was pleasant when you felt secure.

Turning tentatively back in the direction in which he knew water lay, Addy felt uncompelled to make the short trek just yet. He shook his neck, snorting softly in the cold air, eyes following the tracks they had left before. He thought back on the last couple of days, finding their arguments amusing but still unwanted as memories, finding their journeys back and forth through the maze-like Redwoods to be silly albeit useful. A huff. His lips stuck to his dry teeth. “Guess it’s water time now, though.” He turned his head to her, tipping his muzzle up in an invitation she could take or decline. He would not be offended either way. Cloven hooves pulled slowly into motion, leaving time for her to follow if she pleased.

end.

[WaT]

She didn't particularly feel thirsty at the moment. A few mouthfuls were quickly gathered, chewed and swallowed. The mare followed the brute though, trying to humor him in an oblivious way. She was more of a wandering than a follower but being alone was something she didn't want at the moment. Carefully her limps picked up and lowered trying not get ahead of the beast.

He was leading her after all. Snorting in frustration she nudged him slightly. An indication to pick up the pace. She was elderly but not frail. Pinning her ears for a second, Salma couldn't believe she thought of herself as elderly. Was that what he slow pace was about? Maybe he was just waiting for her to be polite. It should be a beautiful spring this year. she quietly said looking up at the frost covered needles. Then she would really work on this place. Adding grass at least. Moving the trees would ruin the beauty of this man made forest. It wasn't like she had to stay here at all times anyway.

She would have to check on her beaches. They were more or less habitable at the moment. Maybe not for horses entirely due to the openness of it all but there were no predators here. It seemed that there weren't even deer present. Though she had seen tracks here and there. Much smaller than the brute's feet. Forget this leading, she knew where the water was. Instinct held the damsel back though. It might hurt the male's pride or something within himself. She did however go into a full walk. That they both could handle or she hoped at least. If he could eat like a pig, surely he walk.

Flicking an ear forward she heard the sound of a bird fluttering a few in front of them. They never truly seemed to migrate away. Just move to whichever place was warmest. Most of them anyway. These seemed to not care either way of the weather. Spending most of their time in the forests.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

He moved slowly only for the politeness of it. The beast could take on (for a moment) a full blown gallop in his frail state! He might as well have been able to walk. Neither was it that he expected her to follow him. It had been an invitation of company, not an order. Her antsy behavior echoed in the air around them. He sensed it, but made little effort to follow through with the orders that she dared not speak. Obstinate. He would make her act out. For all he cared, he might as well have ordered her to follow! She was within his space, now feeding off of his resources instead of her own, bothering him instead of another, torturing him with her argumentative personality! Oh, how lucky he was! But, seriously - and with all sarcasm aside - something in him felt lucky to have her there. She would be proof that the horrid beast was tolerable… and maybe provide some much adored company. He cared for her even though she seemed to feel not a drop of affection for him. It was his job to care.

When she continued to urge him on, he thought for a moment of picking the pace up beyond her expectations, leaving her there for the amusement of it. Why should he not? He figured she would anger, that he would have to face the earful of tongue lashing that she would likely supply him. Being the male he was, and not wanting the annoyance of such, he simply picked up the pace - if only slightly. Malleable.

“I think so,” he agreed softly, not looking at her nor anything else… just walking. He held aim, but you would have hardly noticed it upon looking at him. It was just his nature. “Actually, I hope so. Really.” Aderalle was sick of being cold. Sick of being sick. Sick of being urged on to speed. And sick of being bossed. When her speed picked up, a soft snort left him in a teasing manner. He could not figure out why she was in such a hurry! First thing in the morning, nothing to do today… life was easy… and she wanted to do everything at a speed! Silly mare. He did not see the point.

To appease her, he surpassed her. Maybe in a moment a walk would not be good enough for her either? A canter, then! The speed woke up his body which still felt the last gripping effects of slumber. It felt good. He felt he could keep this pace for a long while.

end.

[WaT]

Rolling her eyes the mare huffed as the beast ran onward. Her own limbs carried her off at the same speed and soon she found herself at his side. Only for a few seconds though, before she veered to the right and took off at a gallop. If he wanted to be bratty then so could she. It was foolish wasting this energy in such cool weather though. A layer of cold sweat formed along her flanks and chest before she finally stopped. Not caring if he had followed her, Salma picked a nearby juniper plant.

It seemed a bit...dry. Snorting she moved on her merry way, making a few fruit bearing saplings grown along her path. Who did he think he was anyway? Well, he was sick after all or so seemed to be still. Rubbing her side against a tree she mused over the thoughts of things that might happen in the near future. Silly things like babies and what she would do when he finally did pass on. Go back to her beaches of course! That is what she always had done it seemed. Though maybe she would stick around to clear a few trees and let some sun shine on this place.

Maybe it could thrive with a meadow after all. This would only come in time though. As of right now redecorating this place wasn't on her mind. That bratty colt was. Maybe she had made the mistake on staying here with him. Who else would though? It seemed this island was lifeless almost. Void of horses and only birds and small mammals residing. Snorting Salma lowered her head and began plucking the lush foliage that had formed around her as she stood still. In a way she wished the humans hadn't left at least then she would know where the rest of her kind were.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

What did this silly mare want? Too slow! Too fast! Too confident! Too shy! Too sick! Too powerful! He thought her silly. He felt as though he were running trials for her, as if she were trying to prove to herself what he was or was not. There was not much to him but arrogance and whim. Even he knew that. He could not fathom what she was trying to drag from him. Still, as she veered from the path, his amusement was tinged with its usual bout of annoyance. She could be a pest.

He slowed to a walk, huffing at her ignorance, trying to decide at the slow gait he maintained whether he was to find her or continue on to water. True, water was just around the bend in the trail… a dozen yards or so ahead. And she knew where he was headed. Why she had followed was still something of a mystery to the beast. And, furthermore, this was her home now. She could be in it alone. It was not something to worry over. She knew it better than he, it seemed. Water it was!

When he arrived there, he drank greedily from the isolated pool, sucking what could have been gallons down his bone-dry gullet. It took him ten minutes or so to quench the thirst he had felt, drinking in famished spurts, grazing shortly in various intervals throughout. When he felt satisfied with the aching fullness of his belly, his head finally rose. In his excitement, he had forgotten Salma! Where was that… polite… lady… the words did not fit her, but he forced himself to think them. He needed to like her. He needed her to like him. Life had to go on, continue, renew. She was all he had. For a moment he imagined what the offspring of them would manifest as. He could not decide what color it would end up. The young, ignorant colt in him twisted its childish mug at though thought of girls. He had a lot of growing up to do.

Half-disgusted with himself for considering Salma as a mother (she was yucky to him, mind you), he again focused on the prospect of locating the girl. Returning to the trailhead which emerged from the forest modestly, he started back up it. He planned to return to the point at which they split, then work from there. A soft nicker echoed from him.

end.

[WaT]

Her muscles twitched from the slight cold as she slowly moved along. She chose to delay their rejoining for a bit longer and continued her small feast. It seemed that all her kind did was eat and sleep, not much else going on there. Perhaps that was why humans took it upon themselves to domesticate most of them. The few that had been left behind found themselves lost without the two legged beasts. Soon though everyone readjusted themselves for life on their own.

Flicking an ear toward the faint sound, Salma turned her head as well in its direction. So...he at least wanted to know where she was. The mare chose to delay her reaction for a few minutes but soon let a nicker of her own out. She wasn't going to backtrack for him. He had started it after all. Running ahead of her like that. She was only trying to be polite. Did he not know what position he held? Snorting she turned back around and began walking. It was...disrespectful for her to linger behind. Willingly. Maybe she was just old fashioned but that was how it was...or should be. Follow whoever was in charge, stay within sight but times changed so much.

Huffing she stopped to eat again. Her stomach almost full but the layer of fat needed to be a little thicker. This time though she chose to eat the very vines that she seemed to create everywhere. They weren't that bad and a change in taste was welcomed. Though judging by the quietness of the sound it seemed the beast was farther than she thought. Had she really gone that far? Tossing her head the mare then shook herself. How she hated this cold. If only those humans were here then they would have blankets.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

Of course he wanted to know where she was! She was his, was she not? He believed so. Not that he would have ever acted in such a possessive manner toward her, but it was the truth. She was, technically, beneath him in this land. It did not matter if she wanted that to be the reality or not. She should have stayed on her little beaches if she wanted to be the boss.

He was getting angry with her, but trying not to show it. Cloven hooves carried him forward, the sinew in him not feeling as though it ached simply because they had work to do. He felt… good. A nicker. Something he could barely hear. Ears acted as satellite dishes, swiveling, locating. His black-tinged head lifted, releasing a snort and then a loud, rather demanding call into the crisp, still morning air. More of an “I’m coming, stay put” than the “Get your butt over here” that he would have liked to have enforced.

Huffing, he continued his backtracking, feeling annoyed at her. There was more he needed to do than chase after her all day. A bath, perhaps? How about putting on some fat so that he might survive this god-forsaken place and its chilling winters? Really, he just wanted to eat. Who does not? He only thought of bathing in jest, as just another thing to use as an excuse to be mad over. Perhaps he needed one… but if no one around him cared, he was quite compelled to stay this way - even if it may have been the bane of his health to begin with.

A sigh. He knew he really should bathe. His laziness was a convincing counterpoint, however.

Coming to the place where they had separated, his body pulled to a stop. Even going slowly, his body felt as a freight train barreling forward then having to slam on its brakes. It took him a while. It did not feel effortless. Another snort left him as he peered down the trail she had left. Then a nicker, a stomp of his hoof. “Salma,” his voice was hard, but he tried to mask the frustration he felt. “What on earth was that about?” He did not know if she heard him, and did not care. Hooves carried him down her faint path, the scent of her more useful than the crumpling of foliage.

end.

[WaT]

She didn't mind being alone much these days. It seemed that was all she ever was...alone. Hearing his call she stayed put. Where else would she go? Pulling the tender stems she chewed and swallowed without further interruption. She could hear him coming now...slowly. It didn't matter she would stay here. No need to have him chasing after her now. The poor girl was lost in her own world at the moment.

The forest came to life around her as Salma found herself creating more useful trees to calm herself. The mare didn't have a temper but girl were moody weren't they? One minute she was sweet then the next upset about something. Sighing she continued eating her grass, letting it grow taller, thicker and of course greener. It was soft and sweet, easily pulled from the ground. If only he could be this soft in attitude, but then he was young after all. Didn't they know everything it seemed? Surely not.

Flicking her tail the millions of strands drove off nothing. It was too chilly for insects today. Must have migrated to a warmer area. Still she kept eating, Salma was still hungry after all! Though she didn't have much need for more fat. This would be worked off when it got warmer, by running or doing something of the sort. Nickering she tried communicating her location to the brute in as little words possible.

[Aderalle]

wicked men tell wicked lies

begin.

Moody was an understatement. For both of them, quite possibly. Aderalle trudged begrudgingly forward, following scent and sound and sight down the path that she had left. Eventually, the soft crackling of growth met his obsidian-tipped ears and caused them to flicker curiously. As he continued to advance, he could not only hear the transformation of his home but see it as well.

The greenery welled up beyond the trees that blocked him from her. He did not resent her creations, finding them wondrous and useful, but resented her power, as he had none that could compare. It also seemed quite possible that she would be easy to keep track of - she did not seem to be able to travel about without altering any and every landscape available to her. A soft snort escaped his nostrils into the still air, loud enough to pull up and over the other ambiance of the area but not at all forceful.

Always being happy to see her somewhere inside of him, he was not sure how to deal with her. As much as he felt watchful over her, she did not seem to want him in return. It was insulting and disheartening. He decided that he would communicate nothing of the sort to her. Not in the near future, anyway. She would laugh at him, would she not? She would think him silly. He was sure of it.

Her scant calls came to him, audible in his nearness. His pace picked up a bit, a little light, a touch airy. When he could finally see her, he returned the call. He seemed to have to wait on her like a butler in order to keep her happy… but even when he was sweet and, though he hated to admit it, playful, her mood still turned sour toward him and she would again treat him as dirt. It was illogical, but he would do anything to keep her there. It was not as if he had much else.

Entering her space, his head tossed up a bit in greeting. “I’m sorry,” he did not know why he was apologizing. He had done nothing wrong. It just seemed to be what she would have wanted.

end.

[WaT]

Snorting the beauty raised her head and casually walked over to the brute. "Sorry for what? You've done nothing wrong..." She said lightly brushing herself against him as she stopped by his side. Salma wasn't mad or anything just a bit moody this morning or had been for awhile. She wasn't going to swoon over every male as others might so this was how she was. Some of the time.

True she was slowly caring for Aderalle but there was a wall up for obvious reasons. He wouldn't live as long as her so there was really no point in falling head over heels with him. Sighing she rested her head on his back. It was nothing personal. Spring seemed to be coming and soon though. It wasn't nearly as cold in the area of the woods they were in. Flaring her nostrils she lowered her head back down to graze and slowly began walking away. Pulling the stems she once again chewed thoughtfully, slapping her tail casually against him.

There was no reason to apologize when he had done nothing wrong, maybe he thought he had that was the case. She wasn't sure if this would work out at all either. Salma had pretty much been on her own since the humans left. Doing whatever she wanted when she wanted. Having another tagging along would be something to get use to. The old girl would try to respect him as best she could.

Slapping her tail against him she subtly invited him to join her. Not that he wasn't going to anyway. Sighing she tried thinking about whether or not to eat the grass over here or over there. There was really nothing much running through her mind at the moment.


[ooc: not much better but muse is lowish