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-> -- Midnight In Montgomery, 08:07:26 03/29/02 Fri (205.188.200.49)
He saw no need to countinue his flirting with heart, for he would try agan tommorow for his approach. As he approached the clearing he stopped to see the two mares and then he turned glancing off to where Raya had went, he decided to turn, he walked slowly but he could be seen with pride. As he approached Raya he walked slowly coming to a halt in front of her. He looked down to the laying mare, is something the matter?
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// Awakes // -- *Raya, 10:40:21 04/04/02 Thu (152.163.206.188)
Filly awakens, and surges to her feet, started. Orbs see who it is, and she relaxes. "No...nothing really. It's just a surprising discovery." She eyes the scrapes on her knees, and notes that they still have a drop or two each of silver blood on them. The filly glares at them. Hastily the scrapes seal up, and no trace is seen of her truly silver blood. For some strange reason, she does not particularly wish to reveal that. It is something she needs to think about.
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-> -- Midnight In Montgomery, 18:11:51 04/10/02 Wed (152.163.201.196)
He sees the blood just before it is healed, he stared wondering how could she smell as if she were a blackblood? He sighed It seems the rain clouds are moving in, I suppose I'll rest now, in these woods, should you care if I stay right there? He points his nose towards a tree in front of Raya. I shall promise not to disturb you, and I am terribly sorry for surprising you in such a way.
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// Reply // -- *Raya, 17:54:58 04/12/02 Fri (64.12.106.41)
"'Tis of no importance." Auditors take in the sigh; femme wonders just how much was observed. Sigh of her own is emitted, though inwardly. Orbs move to examine the weeping willow; would it be sufficient shelter from rain? Thickness of branches is noted; rain would not soak through easily, and mayhap t'would run off trailing branches rather than make the attempt. "Stay where you wish. 'Twill not matter to me."
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_> -- Midnight In Mongomery, 18:13:40 04/12/02 Fri (64.12.96.169)
He nodded and flared his nares to take in one last breath to dectect any strangers,none were there, he smiled and nodded to her, I thank you m'lady. He lay down calmly under the tree and began to speak to the new comer, "Do you not travel with a stallion or harem of your own?"
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// Reply // -- *Raya, 09:01:29 04/13/02 Sat (152.163.201.64)
"No." Femme tenders no account for this; t'would force her to tell her tale, and thus reveal her newly found silver heritage.
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-> -- Midnight In Montgomery, 13:28:02 04/13/02 Sat (64.12.107.172)
He already seen the silver blood just before she healed her wounds, he was quite for a moment he sat watching her, so do you have a story of yourself, like where you came from and such?
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// Mental Debate // -- *Raya, 10:10:54 04/14/02 Sun (152.163.197.204)
The wince is purely mental, and it opens a mental debate: Should she tell him her story, and if so, how best to go about it? She knows that he saw the silver blood; his actions are proof of that. So is it really fair to force him to stew in his curiousity? Yes, part of her argues. It's perfectly fair. What he doesn't know won't hurt him! Slowly, she shakes her head, in answer to his question.
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-> -- Midnight In Montgomery, 15:06:00 04/15/02 Mon (64.12.105.33)
He sees her answer, oh, you don't have a story of yourself? Or are you afraid to tale such? I have a bad history myself, how bout a deal you tell me yours and I do the same, nothing could be to much worse than the hell I've been through, he laughed slightly.
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// Disagree // -- *Raya, 15:21:06 04/15/02 Mon (205.188.199.59)
"I disagree. There is much that can be worse, including my story." Auds flicker about, and despite herself, she is curious. Nostrils flare as she inhales deeply. "Very well then." Feeling unable to tell the tale in voice, she gives it to him in the form of knowledge-telepathic communication:
; silverblood unicorn stood before Gharibe, blood dripping from a deep gash in its side into a small, magically made earthen bowl. The blood was deep silver – hence, the title ‘silverblood’. The bowl disappeared, and appeared magically in front of Gharibe.
“Drink,” her father commanded. “Drink, and become a true blackblood.”
She looked at the bowl. The scent of blood drifted up to her, sweet and innocent. It was supposed to make her scornful, but instead it nearly set her to weeping. To drink the blood of one of such innocence would be a crime - and unlike most blackbloods, the idea did not appeal to her.
She looked up at her father, then her mother. Their gazes were cold, uncaring. Then she looked at the silverblood. It came back to consciousness, and raised its head to look at her feebly. Undoubtedly it knew what was running through Gharibe's head, and Gharibe saw pity in its gaze. She was touched; this unicorn was on the ground, with blackbloods all around her and her blood in a bowl to be drank by a blackblood foal - and it could still feel pity for another? She looked up at her parents; saw their cold gazes glaring down at her - commanding her to drink the stuff before her. She looked down at the bowl of silver blood, then at the unicorn again. She looked at her parents. "No!"
"What?" her father said, in a quiet voice full of barely-controlled rage.
"No! I won't drink it! I won't!"
"WHAT?!" There was no control in his voice now; it was all rage. A ball of fire came racing towards her. It hit her, scorching both the purely instinctual shield she had constructed around herself and its maker. Pain was all she knew, and then - nothingness. Blessed, merciful nothingness. She sank into unconsciousness with a sigh of relief.
But then she was yanked back into reality, and into the presence of pain. But this time she fought it down. Only a moment had passed while she was unconscious. The silverblood was on its feet, and keeping the blackbloods away from Gharibe.
Gharibe struggled to her feet, and fled. She fled so long that where it had been midnight when she began running, it was dawn when she stopped. She looked over at the rising sun. One ray in particular caught her eye.
Gharibe meant 'stranger', and she hated the name. It was time for a new one. It was as though someone whispered the name in her ear: *Raya. Spanish for Ray.
And so from there on, she was *Raya.;
*Raya inhales deeply again, and awaits the stallion's response.
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