| Subject: Re: *the filly approached her father carefully*>>> |
Author:
The Soul Haunter
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Date Posted: 20:37:06 04/27/01 Fri
In reply to:
Hope
's message, "*the filly approached her father carefully*>>>" on 20:03:21 04/27/01 Fri
Dark pools of obsidian watch the approach of the fily, his filly, his own flesh and blood, a creature sired by him. He was proud, simply that she was alive. A feat that he was told many times would never happen....
The yearling freisian walked towards the herd, head lowered , orbs barely watching the dusty floor beneath him. He could hear the angry voice of the lead stallion ring out above the others. It simply caused his lobes to lay flatter against his skull. He listened as young steeds about him snapped at the air, narrowly missing his ebony pelt. They all dispised him. His own brothers, his sparring partners, steeds just like him, yet so different. They hated him as much as he hated himself. Reaching the base of the hill, feathered legs ceased movement, allowing the young steed to stand, his young form already largely built, with heavy muscles and a shining pelt. His body betrayed him, and began to tremble. It was horrible. A sign that he was afraid. He was weak. Afraid of his own sire, his own flesh and blood. How much more pathetic could he be? It simply caused him to hang his dial father in shame, ebony tresses spilling about his neck.
"You fool!" The rough voice snapped out, breaking the silence that had settled in with one deep blow. "You are a disgrace to this family! What do you have to say for yourself?"
He trembled slightly in fear, uncertain of what to say. The truth, or what the steed wanted to hear? The colt lifted his gaze, allowing himself to view the large obsidian steed, the angered soul with razor hooves and ivory teeth, with heavy muscles and a storm-like rage. He was pure hell.
The colt licked his parched lips slightly, speaking in his high-pitched, young voice. "Sir, she... she was just a friend..."
"silence! I will tell you who can and cannot be your friend. You do not befriend a female! Mares are for breeding only. Do not go soft on me boy, or you will pay!"
He nodded, trembling as he began turning around, quickly walking away from the scary steed upon the hill, soft chants from his brothers about his foolish ways. "You think any mare would ever like you?" "Mares are only good for breeding." "Stupid Soul, he'll never have a herd." "Poor pathetic colt..."
It was all pure hell, pure terror. It was what drove him on during the day, and what kept him from sleep at night. The pain was his friend, the filly he thought he might love, long gone, nothing more than a memory, a figment, a lost hope. Mostlikely she had found her true love, and never thought of him again. She probably had no clue how that day had hurt the steed so. It had made him what he was today. A cold-hearted fool, unable to love, simply attempting to prove everyone wrong. He was capable of making a herd, and he had a wonderful start. Perhaps a few more mares, hopefully a few more foals... It would be pure bliss.
Yet at this moment, he could not think of it. He had to push thoughts of the facts of Hope away, and worry of her happiness. He nods softly, preparing to speak in his deep tone, resonating within his chest. "Good morning, Hope. Yes, it is rather quiet... As usual. The forest is always calm when no one is about." He supressed a deep sigh as he looked to her, smiling with fatherly pride.
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