�entereth� -- Mount Enchantment

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Subject: �entereth�

Author:
Charring

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Date Posted: 14:09:32 05/21/02 Tue
Author Host/IP: 205.188.198.164

Femora ent'reth th' elevated terra, Flints o' she-beast carrying her with ease o'er the region. Swift, is she, for fear spurs her onward. Still, memories haunt her: fire, leaping up around her, as if in response to the anger directed at the one called Detrusient, rivulets of flame spurring t'wards the blackblood stallion, yet also - to her horror - tendrils of flame seeking the life of she who was obviously their creator - this femora herself, Charring! Original name was Dancing Raindrops, but she always despised that name, and Charring suits her well. She will keep the latter. Running, absorbed in her thoughts, femme fatale is unaware of protruding tree roots, and so stumbles 'pon one, falling. Silver blood stains fire-hued pelt, mixing w'th lathering sweat. Now she slows, walking, and surveys the tract within which she walks.

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[> Subject: ][ chase ][

Author:
Detruisent
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Date Posted: 23:14:18 05/21/02 Tue
Author Host/IP: 208.247.220.201

Detruisent had followed her from the wasteland below. The witch could not control her magic. Should this stir more fear, or put it to rest? Still he chased after her, breathing hard from the climb up Enchantment. This terrain was wearing on his legs, though enduring the travels granted him strength. Her english thoroughbred speed and arabian stamina were getting away from him; though he was of spanish fighting origin and (though not much for galloping up mountains) he would profit in the end.. should he catch her.

Ah, lovely Charring. She came into his sight again, recovering from a fall and walking on. Detruisent puffed, trailing behind her as quiet as he could, regaining rest before he dealt with her. So she couldn't control her magic -- and how he hated it, but perhaps he could.

Sorry lol.. i love going off. ^.^ yeah thanks for being patient, I need to do something with myself. *slaps*

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[> [> Subject: �watched�
Author: Charring [ Edit \| View ]	Date Posted: 17:09:41 05/22/02 Wed Author Host/IP: 152.163.206.199 Feels watched, does she, and 'tisn't a pleasant sensation. Mouthful of grass snatched; she continues on. [ Post a Reply to This Message ]

[> Subject: E.n.t.r.a.n.c.e.

Author:
S.t.o.v.a.t.i.
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Date Posted: 19:32:58 05/26/02 Sun
Author Host/IP: 64.12.102.168

Filly trots t'ward steed. Head, once high in defiance, lowers in submission as she nears. Slows and halts near him. Voice cracks. Detruisent, Sir, I am very sorry. I never meant to desert you. I know you do not need me, but I beg of you to take me back. Head lowers more, waiting the punishing, perhaps fatal, blow she is sure to recieve.

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