my, my, those eyes like fire — you’re a winged insect, she’s a funeral pyre
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she/they
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299 posts
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points
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Weanling
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Post by JUNIPER ! on Aug 19, 2024 23:19:39 GMT -7
Cosmina was still trying to learn the ways around Wild Equines. She’d entered through the land bridge that seemed to no longer exist, leaving her stranded in lands she was unfamiliar with. Frustrating, no doubt, she was making the best of it where she could. This place was not like it was back home; there was talks of Afterlife, demons and angels … Cosmina had found out just days before that there was a war going on. She had limited knowledge on what she was dealing with, deciding to continue her trek through the Dark lands without complaint. Part of the long ear felt at ease in a new place where nobody knew her, but mostly she missed her found family. Everyone kept the memory of her dad alive, and showed her a side to the world she didn’t know was possible.
Pulled from her thoughts, Cosmina had lost track of where her feet were heading. Slipping down a slope she had not seen, the sabino nymph leaned back into her hind end and cushioned herself. It didn’t take her long to catch her footing, realizing she’d almost gone head first over the side of the river. Her long ears flickered backward, a huff erupting deep in her lungs and coming up out of her rosy nostrils. “What a mess,” Cosmina muttered to herself, mauve optics taking in the rocky crags around her. Across the way, she could see vibrant summer forage, stomach twisting in anticipation. With ease, her spindle legs carried her across the eroded creases of the river. As she made it to the other side, she leapt up and unto the grass.
Shaking out her dreaded mane, the mare wasted no time plunging her head into the ground beneath her feet, white tail swishing off insects as she rested a hoof. Cosmina had no idea where she was, and if she was intruding she hoped nobody minded. Wild Equines had its disadvantages; less than friendly neighbors seemed to be one of them. She didn’t blame anyone with a war going on. The sheltered life she’d lived that made her so lackadaisical was one of her greatest downfalls, it seemed.
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Weanling
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Post by ✦ F a e r i i e f o x ✦ on Aug 21, 2024 12:52:27 GMT -7
Malice watched from the shadows as the mare stumbled down the slope, her near fall and subsequent recovery of little interest to him at first. He had been traversing these lands with a single-minded purpose, his thoughts consumed by darker ambitions. But now, something had caught his attention. The mare was an unfamiliar presence in these lands he now called his, her posture and demeanor too relaxed for someone aware of the dangers surrounding her. He moved silently, his large frame deceptively quiet despite his size. The underbrush barely rustled as he approached, his red eyes fixed on the mare as she crossed the river and began grazing. The sight of her, seemingly oblivious to the threat lurking in the shadows, brought a twisted smirk to his lips. There was something almost amusing about her ignorance. Eventually emerging from the darkness, Malice made no effort to soften the impact of his arrival, his large hooves now purposefully being put down with all his weight. His bony white coat stood in stark contrast to the green summer foliage, the countless scars etched across his skin telling stories of violence. He stopped a short distance from the mare, his gaze cold and assessing. "You seem lost," Malice's voice cut through the air like a blade, deep and resonant, thrumming through his deep barrel. There was no warmth in his tone, only a stark, almost mocking indifference. He took a step closer, his presence towering over the mare, slited pupils eyeing her up and down, assessing her threat-level, and what potential assets she could be. "These lands are not kind to wanderers, especially ones who don’t know where they are or who they might encounter."He watched her with a predatory calm, his gaze unwavering. "You don’t belong here. And in a place like this, that can be a dangerous thing." Malice tilted his head slightly, a flicker of dark amusement in his eyes as he observed her. "So tell me… why should I let you walk away unscathed?"His question hung in the air, laden with implicit threat. Malice wasn’t just testing her; he was savoring the moment, the tension, the uncertainty he knew must be brewing within her. This was his domain, and anyone who entered it would play by his rules—or not at all. The pale behemoth did not play nice unless it gained him great advantage. tag; JUNIPER ! notes; credit for art - faeriiefox
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