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Post by phantom on Oct 12, 2015 13:35:03 GMT -8
Lady Bo
Winter had come fully upon the lands of Elysium, blanketing everything in pure snow. The claiming grounds, dubbed Pandora's Meadow, were all but empty save for a small number of mares that hung near the entrance of the lands. They stood clustered together, forming their own little herd and converging desperately on any Y chromosome that walked in. Standing upon a small hilltop that overlooked the pathetic scene Lady Bo snorted in distaste.
It wasn't that she didn't want to be claimed by a stallion. Indeed her skin quivered excitedly at the thought of being owned by a male strong enough to prove himself to her. It was simply that those mares down there were so desperate that they would go home with a crippled, sickly yearling just to avoid spending winter without a herd. Bo didn't favor the idea herself, but if she had to she would and hope that spring would bring her better stallions than had approached her so far.
Flicking her tail as she turned to head deeper into the meadow, Bo reflected on a particularly unworthy stallion. He was a leopard appaloosa and had actually believed that he was doing her a favor by offering his home! Ha! As if some hotheaded, buffoon was worthy of her! Although, she did have to admit, his spots were rather sexy.
Deeper and deeper into the land she went, feathered hooves crunching through the snow. If a stallion wanted to claim her, he would have to work for it. With her eyes peering out from under a thick forelock, she searched about for the perfect place to display herself. "There." The word flew out in a puff of mist as Bo spotted an unusually large weeping willow that would suit her needs nicely.
The curving branches were coated in sparkling frost and intermittently interrupted by individual frozen droplets. When the wind blew they clinked together creating a sound much like a crystalline wind-chime. Pushing past the twigs a smile of satisfaction curled her lips as she viewed the space before her. The majority of the branches had stretched out to from a large circle around the trunk of the tree which could easily accommodate five hulking draft horses. Hung like a thin veil they were plentiful enough to block all but the worst wind thin enough that she would still be able to see if someone approached. A small ring of vivid green grass broke from the surface of the ground nearest to the base of the willow and seemed to have completely avoided the snow. Bo walked to stand on the soft green before lowering her neck and nipping at a few strands. Although she was fairly far into the land, any willing suitor would be able to find her if they simply followed their nose.
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Post by madiebeau on Oct 12, 2015 23:53:51 GMT -8
Feeding on fever, down on all fours. What feels like decades passes in just a few days, and the winter weather breaks, and the Wildwood spits him out. Fenrir picks his way through the snow riddled mountain paths of Highiron, back to the lowland meadows. The snow weighs heavily on the grasses, still green beneath the frost, but not as heavily as it does in the mountains. The red-black stallion looks towards the sky as the trees open up. If the weather holds, he should be able to make it back to his newfound sanctuary before the next front rolls in. He’s not worried. Should he become stranded in the lowlands, he’ll bide his time harassing the waifs of Pandora’s Meadow until there are none left to harass. He settles into the shaded treeline, allowing the stark, black pattern of the naked trees to swallow him up. Even without the leaves to break up his silhouette, he would still be easily missed standing there, as if he belonged nowhere else. How very different from Oceanic Steppe, and its coverless expanse. He watches as a pale figure passes him without taking notice, and the corner of his mouth reaches upwards, leaving him with a haphazard smirk. The mare situates herself beneath a weeping willow tree, and while the branches are not too terribly thick, they still conceal her away just enough that they leave one wishing to see more. Perhaps, her conscientious display was working, for Fenrir finds himself peeling away from the treeline before he really cares to notice. He enters the tinkling, frosted curtain, and the branches drag along his topline, brushing his lengthy forelock from his face. “Hello.” He offers, and he dips his head as if it were natural for him, though it is not. You see, Fenrir can be anything he needs to be. “Care for some company?” He gives her a smile, the faint gleam in his dark eyes perhaps the only thing to caution against the fangs that lie in wait. FENRIR MADE BY VEL OF GS + ADOXOGRPHY 2.0
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Post by phantom on Oct 13, 2015 20:56:57 GMT -8
Lady Bo
Crunch. The sound of snow being crushed by another's hooves caused Bo's eyes to slide beneath her forelock, seeking the animal responsible. A dark shadow moved just beyond the veil which curtained her from view and Bo could feel her heart begin to beat faster. Just beyond the meager protection of the willow could lay her prince... or it could be a wolf come to take her life for being so foolish as to wander alone.
Bo's nares stretched wide, trying to catch the scent of whoever it was that stalked ever closer. Hmm... how interesting... although she was now sure it wasn't a wolf, the scent seemed more... feral than most equines. She was intrigued.
Keeping her head low to the ground, when the beast pushed through her curtain she shot her head up in feigned surprise. One dark green eye escaped the clutches of her forelock to look uninhibited upon the stallion as he dipped his head in greeting. His dark coat stood in stark contrast to the frosted surroundings which allowed her to observe him perhaps more clearly than he would be able to for her.
Polite, masculine words crossed the distance between them and her ears curved to catch them. Well, someone was off to a good start. "I suppose there is room for one more..." Her voice was a soft purr, a kitten inviting in a lion for tea. Looking up into his eyes, her breath caught at the predatory gleam veiled within and a shiver of excitement raced down her back. Her mother always told her not to play with fire...
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