< anger management > [ blacky ] -- The Black Lands

A N G E R | M A N A G E M E N T

< from the concealing shadows did the abysmalic wench arrive, the dappled frame slithering along the minor timbers that danced within the melodic grasp of the wind. her strides elongated, marbled talons groping forth to envelope more and more land, leaving behind nothing but a scar of rememberance and peregrintation, crushing all lifeforms that had made it one of their humble abodes.. gone. the usual sneer that was undoubtedly smeared across her face had wiped off in a brief facade, leaving nothing but content. pinnacles remained at a half-mast stature as she strode forth, nearing the obsidian rogue. the quadrant cadence soon picked up, slowing to a mere walk as she siddled up to be parallel with his side, but not rubbing against, merely maw length away. she sought company near him, as she didnt get along with any others besides this one ironic whom she felt she would soon be attached to, but as the shift of her eyes befell the ones alibi and essence, her face was immediately torn into one of disgust. they called themselves evil, puh. they dont know the half of it. oh well. she would let them play there little 'house' games. ill be the mommy and you can be the daddy, while i stand outside, looking in with no remorse whatsoever, only the faint sting of laughter that bubbles up inside of me as i watch them humiliate themselves. my thoughts take me to strange places, but interest is sought in the bronc as ooids shift once again beneath the chords of matted forelock, pores swelling to inhale the now familiar cologne. i cant help but think i might like him just a little, but if anyone ever asks, i can always deny it >

< pallid maw, planted with the various whiskers that grew unless deteriorated while rubbing against an oak or timber, wavered gently within the oncoming breeze. tendons coiling beneath the vipers pelt, a raucous rattle coming from contracted nares as she exhaled. she curiously allowed her muzzle to run along the damp pelt of the steed, her own blanket somewhat drenched from the recent rains that struck the earth so commonly now. she liked the feeling, it somewhat tickled, and she wasnt used to it. cupped flesh once again expands to allow a rush of warm air to be cast upon his neck, before pulling away. hindquarter cocked, weight shifting ever so often from limb to limb as she allowed her head to hang sufficiently as she rested. affection was little and rare, be happy steed. so far, you have me enjoying this little realm of
yours >