*Winces* Sorry about that...here, look at this one...far less confusing... -- Death Valley

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Date Posted: 16:48:15 06/01/03 Sun
Author: Zamnor
Subject: *Winces* Sorry about that...here, look at this one...far less confusing...
In reply to: Zamnor 's message, "[*Grins widely* Why...what a surprise, Zoe!]" on 16:45:29 06/01/03 Sun

The lobes attached so firmly to the top-end of Zamnor's head swiveled to confront the sound of two mares chatting. They twitched as they distinguished the accompanying emotions, curiosity carrying around his thoughtful eyes. Close enough to see outlines and colors, far enough for details to be omitted, he watched for a time. His gaze watered as it strained against the air, resisting the rules of distance in order to recognize the speakers. He recognized only one. It was then that the rubber band of civility that had held him back snapped suddenly, releasing him with a silent twang. The lad, barely older than the two sisters, rounded about and picked up his hooves: time to greet his returning aunt.

The dear lad was as similar to the sisters as dogs are to cats; his coat was black, like both father and grandfather, and his eyes an amiable brown. Within the matching pools of brown was reflected a free soul that laughed with the world, and not at it. He was, by no means, independent from the chains of hate, but nevertheless a balance was held between hate and love, and from that union common sense was born. For instance, it took only one look for the lad to realize that the two must be sisters, and so the one he could not identify must also be his aunt. As he had not met this other aunt before, she must have been gone from the territory in which both Maleah and he resided. He could then infer that Maleah was not happy that the unknown aunt had been gone and that there was a cold "wind", so to speak, blowing between the two. Therefore, it was probably not wise for him to interfere until they were cooled off.

How's that for common sense?

Unfortunately, Zamnor had created his own type of common sense at an early age. He knew that he shouldn't interfere, but he just couldn't help it. There they were, here he was...and it was only polite. After all, his father was lead of the land and was not here to greet his sister properly, so it of course fell upon Zamnor to perform the duty.

Right.

"Hello," he pronounced with uncharacteristic reserve. But then, the situation was basically screaming for solemnity, if not screeching.

[Sorry, I was writing it on Microsoft Word, and I pasted it twice.]

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