Mayhaps? Long time no smell. -- Death Valley

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Date Posted: 14:25:28 06/07/03 Sat
Author: Johnny boy
Subject: Mayhaps? Long time no smell.
In reply to: Johnny the Homocidal Maniac 's message, ".notlikeanyonecaresbut." on 22:54:05 05/31/03 Sat

(LOL! Im still trying to break myself of the quickie message-in-the-subject-box habit :-P)

A scent wafted through the orphan�s nostrils; reminding him of a morose past, the screech of death and the metallic taste of blood thick upon his tongue.

Mmmm. Toxicity.

Morbidly, he loved it; unavoidably dropped as a youth, he had always seen himself as the isolated goth with the magnifying glass. However, his dank situation had always kept the humor light, and such were his spirits as he wavered skewbald nostrils; a dormant coma, sedate and at one with the mollified world.

He was an original, and so was the possessor of the scent � it had to be blood; but not from his father or mother; the child was a bastard, his father too articulate for the likes of himself, and his mother long gone.

Off to Reno or somewhere.

Harkening, the steed turned eccentrically varied eyes and scanned through the baldachin of intricate, interwoven fronds. The light shattered through them at varied, harsh angles, protruding through the leaves and remnants of darkness with fractured splinters of light at grotesque angles�resembling a broken bone, gnarring the rank flesh around it and leaving to protrude a dually hideous slant of the ivory limb. However, he diverted the morbid thoughts and cut the flow of his ever present animosity, throwing a smirk onto painted lips as he caught a glimpse of the peculiar mare in the distance.

�Pins. I�d know that rank exuberance from anywhere.�

He spoke these words in monotony; he knew his sister was just as melancholicly monotonous as he.

�Exhume yourself.�

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[> rank. thats not nice, nor appreciated -- pINS and nEEDLES, 14:40:17 06/07/03 Sat [1]

A few drunken steps brought the mare into the limelight, her splattered sides were heaving with visible difficulty. She had run here. A morbid smile splashed her ivory lips, revealing stained enamels. Her breathing was halted as she took a few steps closer. Her legs, clothed all the way up to where they joined her frail body, were an unnaturally clean white. Besides her legs and milk-coated face, no one could tell the chestnut vixen was a paint.

Her bodily status was a little freakish, a little appalling. She was oddly skinny, looking almost of Akhal Teke blood, her neck was sinewy and anemic, her legs were bony masses of tendon. Her hindquarters sloped oddly straight, and her hips were well defined, just following a narrow ribcage whose bones were well annunciated. However malnourished she looked, her eyes were still bright and contemplative, and quiet and depressed.

Suicidal, mwa hahaha.

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