} death be not proud -- Stone Ghost's Territory -

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Date Posted: 15:21:50 04/03/03 Thu
Author: siren
Author Host/IP: 216.195.24.82
Subject: } death be not proud
In reply to: Living Hell 's message, "§¤Watch out. Spooks are about¤§" on 19:33:22 03/29/03 Sat

The creature stood in a sullen silence in an isolated region, deep within the beryl foliage of the forest. The leathery leaves, and spiny twigs attacked her hide as she shuffled back and forth with discomfort, but she felt nothing except a minor tickling irritant, which was soon swept away by a wild sweep of her girth by a large and mangled clump, that which was called a �tail� by some. She had sought shelter far from her fellow equines, for mingling and social activities were not on her agenda, preferring a solitary life of darkness and bad temper. If anyone looked upon her now, they would remark upon the tattiness of her moonwash'd coat, and disarrayed tendrils of mane and tail, and note a certain hidden anger, for that was she, and nothing may change her. However, her mood had changed to the better, which was unusual even for her, but this state of loneliness seemed to satisfy her.
A sudden burst of unwelcome noise came from the adjacent bushes. Siren swung her delicate pate upward with a deft swing, her scrawny nape taut and angled slightly, and her russet locks falling limply upon it, as always. Her eyes rolled with sudden annoyance, and anger, the creased vessels showing off their whites to the unwelcomed visitor. She stood upright, and with tensed muscles rippling, her four hooves squared in a seemingly strength-proving pose, and her flagged tail upright and no longer pallid and limp. Her swiveling ears were erect, the cupped linings sensing her approach toward the lady. She snorted angrily, her gaping chasms fiery and dark, and she strode purposefully toward the darker bytch that dared an attempt to provoke her bad temper. She watched with slight amusement, if that indeed was what it was, as she sceamed at her, and thrust her head toward him swiftly in anger, a bite aimed nearly at the air before her, a warning. She swung her limbs about, her large hooves resounding upon the hollow ground as she swirled. Quiet acceptance, ooids merely blinking, silent.

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Replies:

¤Hate me?Good.¤ -- Living Hell, 19:32:02 04/04/03 Fri