~Come play with FIRE!

[steph]

A Z A R A

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My travel had been long and gruesome; my chestnut pelt was damp with sweat and my body trudged along in the heavy sand. I was tired and the scar on my chest was beginning to shoot pain throughout my body. It was a very short time in my life that I had lived without the long thin scar, which ran the full length of my chest, that I couldn’t remember ever living without it. Usually the wretched thing caused my no harm, but on long journey’s my breath would start to become heavy and the pain would bring back those memories that I tried so hard to keep hidden. But at times, like now, they crept up on me and put me very much on edge. My body tensed and my muscles contracted as the memories consumed me.





The dew dipped grass was sweet to my newly found taste buds. I was just old enough to be off of mother’s milk and I took nicely to the change. I was more independent and daring then the other foals and tended to wander off away from their little play groups. I wanted adventure and excitement. Well that was my excuse at least. I was just now getting the feeling that I was always alone because none of the other foals where allowed to play with me. But why, was there something worng with me? I mean as far as I could tell I looked and acted like the rest of them. Granted I was bitchy and rather moody but my mother was and she seemed to always have others around her. It puzzled me but I shrugged it off and continued on my way. That night however my whole life changed, heck it nearly ended.
It was nearing dusk and I was heading back to the herd. My legs where young but strong and they carried me swiftly along the uneven terrain. But as I drew closer to my home my body begin to tense and I started to feel as though something was wrong. Stupid me thought that something had happened to my “family” and so I rushed forward when in reality I should have ran far away. As my herd came into view I saw all of the royals in a circle, and by their body language I could tell that they were in deep conversation about something extremely important, little did I know that they were talking about me. I wanted to find my mother and to find out what had happened, but she was nowhere in sight. Suddenly the group broke apart and I felt their eyes on me. Once again my body tensed and my orbs filled with fear, something was wrong and I knew that that something had to do with me. My mind began to race back to the events of the day, trying to figure out what I had done. But my efforts went unrewarded I couldn’t think of anything. I had stayed within the herd boundaries and hadn’t caught anything on fire, which seemed to be the two things I got in trouble for the most. That was another thing that made me different from the others none of them seemed to be able to start fires like I did or control fire at all for that matter, but I never really thought anything of it. Heck until this day I was so naïve to the world around me.
Hearing the sound of approaching hoofs I turned to see the duo colored frame of my mother. My body eased and I begin to trot towards her. But I stopped after a few strides, she like the others seemed angry and she wasn’t running to me like I thought she was running at me. My chestnut frame became frozen out of fear and as my mother’s hoofs rose over my small frame I shut my eyes. I felt the pain of the first blow to my chest, and I knew that it knocked me of my feet but after that I lost a few hours.
When I woke up the sky around me was beginning to blacken and everything seemed to be completely foggy. Taking a deep breath my intention was to get up but a searing pain ripped through me and caused my four month old body to convulse. With the breath that I took the salty scent of blood entered my nares; the scent was so strong that I begin to taste it. As my time back in consciousness stretched out for a minute or so I started to remember what had happened. I was confused and scared; I couldn’t understand why my mother would do this to me. I could feel my broken body and I wanted to cry out in pain, but I didn’t have the energy. My breathing began to slow and my eyes began to close I was giving up I had lost too much blood and I was dying. I could hear the distant howl of wolves and I prayed that they would come and put me out of my misery. The world was fading and my breathing was spaced far apart but the pain was still excruciating and I was cursing my mother for not just killing me.
The ground around me started to shake and a thundering sound caused my head to ache, I had no idea what was going on for my sense of smell was no use to me my brain was too far gone to recognize it. Suddenly I felt a rough tone licking my face and I was thankful for the wolves had finally arrived, and I waited longly for their sharp canines to sink into my already bloody body but that heaven never came. Instead my strength was beginning to return and I could make out the shape of another equine. I faded back into unconsciousness. But for some reason I knew I was safe, I knew that these strange faces where here to help.






I jumped as a raven called to its mate, and I realized how tense my body was and how much my past still affected me. Well I geuss I did know it was one of the reasons why I trusted few and was quick to judge others. But I couldn’t help it, I couldn’t get over that mother daughter betral and I don’t think I ever would. However, I tried not to let that consume my every move I wanted to be able to meet others and to become part of a herd. But for right now my main mode was bitch and that turned most equines off, well at least mares. Stallions, they seemed to be attracted to me, they thought it was just me playing ahrd to get but it was just who I was it was who my past had made me into.

Shaking my sleek arabian neck I snorted and sighed, I had come to Nyore Valley because of the great future I was told it held. Members from the herd that has rescued me had come from this place and I had made the journey. But know I was lost and as much as I hated to say it vulnerable. This sense of lack of protection caused me to be more edgy and I could feel my mood become fiery.


Word Count: 1,233
Muse: Really good
Status: Done and Open for all who are brave enough.

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[taybay]

Might as well start at the beginning.
Right?

His conception was brutal - his vulnerable and weak mother a rape victim from his hellion father. The poor wench had no chance standing up to the friesian stallion in their priorly all-friesian herd. It was a rare sight to see 10-12 damned souls of these beautiful equines tyranting 'round the place, but there was one - and Encore ruled above them all. His mother was lacework - a timid female who would become to be someone in important to the young colt. Merely in her being captive until his birth when the whore fled from her captor who beat her daily and made sure that she lived in the fear of god. Hell, he probably would have run too. But you couldn't just leave such a small colt with no one to care for him, so what did the King do? Simple.

The heir in training was assigned wet-nurses; only the strongest and most well-obedient females of the herd who would become forced to suckle the King's one and only son. Sure, he had other siblings - or he would have if each time a new mare popped out a female both the foal and the mother weren't killed in a fleeting moment of disgust and rage. Encore believed in male superiority and that meant that the ones who produced something he didn't want or somehow his mares deceived him - they were punished capitally. Now a youngling like this couldn't come out of this situation in one piece, nor uncorrupted from the rash workings of the hierarchy. He prided by his father's side, and only when he was weaned was he sent in to be trained.

Now although the tight alliance made up was usually female - they did harbor some stallions merely for the effects of having a strong war force behind the already carnage-driven war horses. They were the strongest, obedient, and lethal soldiers that at that moment Art could have ever conceived. They were the ones who decided to relish over the prodigy and begin to teach him the ropes of the battle field, breeding [ which ended up to almost always be images of brutal rape ] , and learning that you were on your own when you entered that world outside the King's domain. Now, mind you, little Art believed there was nothing beyond the castle walls, so why would he have to leave?

As the youth developed and matured - it became a make and break situation. As the laws of life depict - everyone has to age. And even those these equines were cynical, shattered, and well-obedient to their superior - they weren't immortal. They too had to age - and so did the almighty king himself. So when the heir become a mere and scarce two; his brawn was over-developed for a youth his age because of early training and his hormones already ravishing his body to become excited by the approaching scent of an in season mare. He put on his big boy hooves - and fought his father.

Many of the war patterns 'pon the obsidian blankets of the Knight were results of that tiresome fight. Remembrances of when the student had outdone the master. It was long and equally matched - although the naive stag, he was young and strong. Although the experience of the older stallion - age prevailed to show survival of the fittest. The plasma splattered heir tromped over the diaphragm of his father with a look of triumph over his face clear as day - and set out to take what was his. So, he left that powerful herd.

Why? He was bound for greater things than daddy's little herd could provide. He wanted a life - wanted some adventure. He wanted to live and see what it felt like. He fell in "love" twice. A little filly coming out of a wench by the name of Peace. A duo-painted mare. A son Abu-donte and a filly Fudo out of Mahnai. A spitfire mare painted a blueberry-roan who was the princess of the sea but could deal out punishment like a fire equine never could. He founded his own herd, which disintegrated from a disaster of natural proportions. Then he came here - feeling his own powers well and bubble and finally become of use here. It was a new and good feeling. He was home.

Irons expanded to the circumference of dinner plates slapped across the Earth. But not in carelessness nor lethargy - for the four-beat jostle of the King was erected into an arching gait that proved beautiful in rain or shine. Art was named well-off, he was a masterpiece of god's creature. Like a well-orchestrated measure of music, the rigid surface of a new painting with that slight aroma of paint. He was an equine that Rembrandt had sculpted himself, and everyone knew it too.

Roses flickered from their coffins where they were normally lain flat to his skull - paper thins dilating as the sweet and sour aroma of a female crossed their dainty hairs. Sucking in the bouquet with a full-breath of his collapsed balloons - the fire equine patrolled the lands looking for mares to expand his herd of three. In truth, he only had true possession over two of the three mares - for the other was a water equine with the heart of a fire creature. just like mahnai. He almost cracked a smile over his velvet stage as the name of the dulcinea crossed his cerebrum, he almost, almost missed her. But she was long gone, leaving the procession of his outcast daughter and his water-bearing son. They were an unorthodox family - and rarely speaked unless one was in trouble, and normally that only occupied merely frustration and chastisement from the regal being.

His nervous system had never deceived him before , and they hadn't deceived him this time as pace quickened to an collected three-beat canter. Tassels gently slapping the shank of the cynical Knight as irons hit the Earth in an eerie metronome that only seemed to radiate forboding from the oddly sinister and quiet sound. Enamels snapping together as if to seal this chestnut maiden's faith within his teeth.

His approach was swift. Her vulnerability would only prove to him weak as the dominating equine brushed along her side with an motion that looked to be warmth - but only radiated cold and malice intent as the act was performed. Ivories skimming along her spine in that way that each of his possessed knew - you were going to be punished. Such a dove running around here, with no one to protect her? His alto notes were cold and dry as spoken - ominous in the tone and chilling to the marrow in your bones. I'm sorry you were the one who had to encounter such a fiend.




Music: one wing in the fire - trent tomlinson
Muse: very good
Notes: done. took me forever, not gonna lie. xP
Words: 1205