.I'm Haunted By Your Memories.

[F R O S T Y [sonata]]

Seraphs were called to immediate attention. Ocules narrowing slightly in his response to her syrupy tone. What was this? Fun and games? Arched boa realeased a snort. His dial shook from side to side. The young fae had much to learn. Although he was tempted to turn and leave at his antics. Something told him to stay. So stay he did. Although no words were brought out of his mug. His jugular burned with the lack of aquilla. A drink had not been taken in many hours. The stag beside himself seemed on edge. His lamps holding the lights of delusion. Schizophrenia maybe? Many darks were cursed with this disease. And for a dark it could be quite useful. He himself did not understand. For he was neutral. Leaning dark, yes. But not purely black at heart.

Piston was bent upon mid joint, for flint rising into the air. Dropping and leaving the tattoo of his being. Emerald lush was slightly torn from the many equines that had torn upon its flesh. But a larger gash was caused by the tip of his ebon flint. This stag dubbed himself Necro. How interesting. A nickname. Given to him by whom? Chairo wondered silently. Breathers were cleanched softly, releasing in a long sigh as his beater had begun to thump louder within his cage.

Winged beasts rummaged into the trees. Chairo liked the winged ones, dubbed birds, only in the morn, when there song was sweet and innocent. But once it died off, the sound left was horrible.

Velveteen plush was extended towards the vixen curiously. His paperthins wavering, taking in her undying feminine scent.

[Shalome]

<sup>The fem almost wanted to laugh at the look of disdain that crossed the neatral stud's facial features. It was the response she had wanted, but, because of the size difference and therfore forboding danger, she did not allow herself the luxury.

Instead, she watched him with bored brown lamps, watching him take in the stud with as much disdain as he had with her. She did not like the word "disdain." It was so feminin for these masculin brutes. But she said not a word. She would not be pounded to pulp. Not this day.</sup>

[F R O S T Y [sonata]]

Noise was made within the crimson stags jugular. A deep noise. As if a vibrating object was placed against his larynx. A safe sound for many. He knew not what the fae wished to know from him. Wast it his terra she wished to hear about? Or his herd? His dial was lowered, Ivorns gripping the flesh of the loam, ripping it to shreds with his concrete jaws.

Vampiric pest became fixated with his crimson pelt. It wished to add more of the crimson colour to it, Chairo supposed. The vampire had landed upon the muscle of his lower haunch. First his muscles quivered softly. Attempting to rid its protector of the evil creature. But yet the stags attempts were unsuccessful. Unto the next step. His whipcords slashed out. Attacking the vampire once, setting it off balance. The second time the whipcord hit the creature, it was flung across the lithosphere. Good riddance.


Dial was again turned to the mare. A toss of victory sent through his dial. His fore tresses hung softly, framing his cocoas. Whilst his nape strands hung straight, past the bottom border of his neck. A grunt was let loose. As the itch of the vampires bite began to appear. Pesky thing.

bold/underline = thoughts
italics = words

[Shalome]

<sub>The fem wa tched. The flies did not bother her. Why she did not know. Nor did she care. Only that they rarely bothered her.

What was there to say now? And so she stood, watching the sun glitter over the terrain, and the birds fly toward it.</sub>

[F R O S T Y [sonata]]

The red hued hellion watched the fae. Flies, no he did not mind the flies, you learn to live with them. But the horse flies did bother him. His auds flickered. His lenses drooping. A quick shaking of the dial was allowed. Time to get down to business.

M'lady, we all know why we are here. I shall tell you what I have to offer, and then you shall agree to join me or agree to join this other brute. I plan to rule the largest neutral herd. Feared by all, awed by all. My faes support me. Any that don’t will be promptly removed. I reside at Golden Plains.

Stags auduals tipped forward, waiting for her reply. His velveteen extending slightly towards her. Whipcords were picked up in a soft zephyr that entered the barriers of the terrain. Flirting with in his tresses, picking them up, and allowing them to float down curiously. A mystical site it would be. Stags pools wandered around the terra. Many pathetic stags were claiming pathetic mares. He wast not one of them. His mares were all equip for his herd. Special, they all were. A queen had yet to be chosen, all though Chairo had a few in mind. Would this fae have a chance at the leadership role? 'Twas all to be decided if she joined his herd.

[Shalome]

((OOC: I'ma give Necromancer a chance to post too, before I decide, mk?))

[F R O S T Y [sonata]]

[k]

[Necromancer]

The flitting form of his dead dam wavered for a few moments in stillness as the filly frowned,Necro too noticed the flicka's distress and narrowed his eyes for a few moments, tails snapping in thought.

...she saw me...The ashen stags ears twitched as his dams words and he skowled in her direction..of course to the others it would seem he skowled at a tree..so blind were they to truth the iron wrought stag thought,Death was not only something that happened to one at the end of life..no far from it, death surrounded the living, those twinges of concience..those little voices which counseled? most thought them within thier heads. Necro knew better, cursed from birth to see things others thought only nightmares..to hear the wandering voices of those long past.

It was not often the beast found another cursed as he was, although in the odd times he had spent an extended period of time with others of living flesh..lets face it he was a wanderer, he had seen once the awakening of the curse..had watched as the colt grew more skittish with each passing day until at long last unable to reconcile with what was happening to him he had gone mad. The colt had been weak..Necro had survived the curse..had learned to filter the voices of the dead from those of the living.

The colts father of course had blamed Necro for the colts demise..his mere presence it was said caused madness and the foolishness that ensued had ended with one less stallion and a band of mares the ashen stag hadn't really wanted..so he'd left. Perhaps it was true, being near him opened the eyes of truth to those who could see.

He fixed the filly with an open look, for once allowing his guard to drop, his gaze before simply the guarded eyes of any stag emotionless and blank now seemed a pool of swirling mist, filled with violence and cunning,,and lurking in the depths the spark of something unknown, a taint..a curse.

"Do they scare you?"

[Shalome]

<sub>The filly watched the stud's before her, still trying to see that flicker again, from the corner of her lamp. But it didn't come. Her harks stood straight up and her dial jerked toward the ashen hued stud as she heard his words float 'pon the carbons.

"They?" she asked, wondering if there was a seed of madness in her brain. "What they?" she demanded, her voice beginning to shake, rising a little bit in pitch. "There was no they! I saw nothing!" she denied, her vocals continuing to rise, her orbs widening a little. What was he ta lking about? Had she been a dog, her hackles would have stood straight 'pon her back. Had she been a human, she would have screamed, or cried, or thrown a temper tantrum. But she was none of these. And all she could do was stand, and try to controll the madness risingin the pit of her stomach....</sub>

[F R O S T Y [sonata]]

Occules surveyed the scene before him. Darkened shadows began to stretch over the lands. The great ball was finally losing its fight with the horizontal barrier, slowly slipping below its grip. The eyes of the night were beginning to appear as well. Small white objects that twinkled lightly. Stars they called them. Red knight stood, waiting for the fae to respond. At the stags lyrics amusement settled upon his features. The fae seemed freaked. He himself had seen a stag like this before. Long ago. A wandering Bedouin type stag. Alone in the desert. Never finding a herd to settle with, for no one wished to deal with his curse. Seraphs alerted, waiting for the fae to return her attention to himself. The other stag seemed quite amused at her antics at well. Which led Chairo to believe that this wast not the first fae to act as such.Crimson pelt seemed to be turning into a blood brown colour, the colour of dried blood. It was the shadows that brought this hue upon him. For it was simply an illusion of the eyes. For his coat was not this colour. Whipcords swayed softly, tickling his hocks, flirting with the wind.

[Necromancer]

..She lies...Necro would have rolled his eyes at the voice, had he not beein in the company of others..it was obvious they already thought him mad, no need to give them further proof, instad his visage took on a scolding look

"Come now...there is no need to be coy about it, many are afraid of such things"

..or they don't believe.. Again that voice and sighing the beast turned to look upon the horizan, whirling gaze set solidy upon the clouds, his eyes tracked the flight of winged ravens..no doubt cirlcing over some predators kill, he shook his head the fresh death always pulled his attentions, though rarely the death of a lesser beast..unless if twas a equid pulled down. It was possible. Perhaps he would go to see later, already his hooves twitched with the want to move that way.

Later. Pulling back the curse he attempted to lock it back within him so that his gaze when once more turned to the others was normal..or mostly so.

"The dead can not harm you..if you do not let them"

True they could lead one astray, they rather enjoyed calling others to join them in the ether, it was like a game to them, and they most fiercely pursued those whose cursed sight may offer them a glimpse of life..of course the legends were fuzzy thee, after all..the necromancer had to die to grant the deadlife..and no one had survived to tell first hand..it was simply stories passed down to frighten foals..though there was truth to every legend if one could glean it from the lies. He tilted his head to regard the filly out of one slowly blinking eye.

[Shalome]

<sub>The other stag fell away, brown orbs narrowed as Necro spoke these words. "What do you mean, the dead?" she demanded harshly, her own harks flicking past Necro toward the ravens who swirled over whatever deceased bodice they had found and were now claiming as their own.

She shivered as a cold form rather like satin or lace swept over her bodice, her pelt twitching over hardened muscles. That silver, shimmering form danced before her lamps again, and she narrowed them, trying to bring the being into focus. But every time she had almost identified what it was, it's shimmering, foggy form rolled and danced farther away, leaving her as clueless as before. Like a game the being did not want Ashanti to win. And Ashanti needed to win, if only to satisfy her own curiosity.</sub>

[Necromancer]

Necromancer watched the flitting form play havok with the poor flicka's mind, he too had once struggled to see such things, had shyed away from even the possibility of thier existence. But he had come to terms with it, had accepted it and then had seen.

The ashen regarded her with one unblinking eye as he tipped his head, did she truly wish him to answer such a question? did she simply believe that one simply went poof at the end of thier lives? and if he did answer would the flilly be capable of accepting his answer.

the beast tipped his ears foreward and glanced at the other stag slightly amused before looking back to the filly.

"I know of only one meaning for "the dead", is there another I am not aware of?"

His voice was quirked with jest, the filly no doubt already knew the answer to her question, had in fact known when she asked..she simply refused to believe it.

[Shalome]

<sup>The filly looked at him, that silly ghostly form still visible at the corner of her lamps, but she did not swing her head. She would not give the ashen stud that satisfaction. She shook her Arab crown.

"I haven't a clue what you're talking about..." she said. And she didn't. She had no idea what that mean. But she did not ask him to define it for her. She simply stated what was obvious when one looked at her facial expressions.</sup>

[Necromancer]

Necromancer stood gazing at the femme, a slight twitching given to his muzzle the sigh\n that if he could the beast would smile, and yet his gaze was of the upomost seriousness..an odd combination that and somewhat spooky when one thought about it, though it was not ment to be..the stag had no intentions of scaring the young femme anymore. HIs ghostly dam had done that that enough already.

Instead the ashen stag simply blinked at her for a few moments before answering.

"You will understand when you are capable of handling the answer young flicka"

Perhaps the answer was a big egnimatic, but the stud figured the filly would either shun him or become intrigued, either way the beast knew he would continue to keep an eye on her..it wasn't often one found a kindred soul..or at least one with the same gift as he.