This may be a desire that you could regret

[||Prancer||Misha||Desire||]

_{Her nostrils flared as the sweat dripped from her salty wet pelt. Steam rose from her back, cooling her after a heavy run. Her muscles ached, but no, she was not weak. She would keep going. Her head rose, lobes lay flat against her skull. A loud squeal let loose from her lips, teeth bared as she ran foreword. The wind hit her face like a thousand knives, the cold freezing over her body. It was night, and the temperature was starting to drop. Her eyes opened wide, she was confused at the moment, but she would not let anyone know. A long chorus left her lips, signaling all who were in the area that she was here, and not to be messed with. The trees looked different in the dark, they all looked like monsters, ready to grab at her hide, and rip into her flesh. She wasn't afraid, she wasn't afraid of anything, not even death itself. Her front leg hit the ground with anger, spraying turf across the clay. Her nostrils flared and her neck arched, her back legs hopped foreward with angst, and she let loose. She ran foreward striking the dead birch, making it uproot itself. Her blunt hooves stepped onto the tree, breaking it into splinters. She gave it a, don't mess with me glance, the walked away. She looked, waiting for anyone to come, maybe they would possible know where this place was. She could barely see anything in this dark. She walked forward, blindly and aimlessly, not knowing where she was going. She didn't need anyones help, she could do it on her own.}

[Necromancer]

The ebon beast had found himself wandering rather aimlessly throughout the claiming feilds, shadowed hides slinking through the forest to regard the many mares whom came through. None had garnered his intrest. The beast was was a picky one and as such very few did he approch.

He was in fact on the verge of giving up for the day when a squeal and snapping wood caught this attention, angling off from his former path the creature followed the sounds, creeping within sight distence of the flicka before stepping from the shadow whose darkened tendrils seemedto grasp for his hide even as he left them, caressing his carcass like that of a long time love. The shadows had always been the beast friend.

Puffs of condensed air raised from the steeds nares as he took in the femmes scent, the assassin's pelt seemingly darker then the very night, but even they had little to compare to the fathomless depths of his eyes, so deeply hued thier swirling depths seemed to drink in what little light thier was..to twist it into somehing etheral and wicked before loosing it once more into the world through his gaze. A breeze crepts fro mteh trees to lift his long stung tresses from his neck and though in contrast to the stags near statuelike stillness the weacing tendrils seemed to make the beast less real..and more dreamlike with each wave. Or perhaps Nightmarish would be a better term.

There was long moments of silence as the creture regarded the mare with that darkened gaze before speaking in a voice which seemed whispered by the very darkness itself.

"Such a racket you make...one would think you were trying to garner the attentions of some beast, a dangerous ploy in so unstable a time"

[F R O S T Y [sonata]]

Ebon the colour of night roamed the heavens canvas. A devilish colour, and yet it was exploring the heaven. A thought to ponder upon possibly? I mean, why would the hue of death preside upon the place the heaven kissers worshiped? It made zero sense at all if you ask me. The temperature had dropped, although it was summer, the air was quite nippy.

The ebon colour bounced from the darkened limbs, creating a place that was serene. Silent dark and cold. A place an equine could slink through un noticed. And yes, that is what the red hued stag was doing. Moving about the terra, although it 'twas the dead of night. The cold air clung unto his coat, like a leech sucking the light out of him. The darkness's evil fingers tangled around his bod, pulling him into the darkness.

His auduals layed against his boa, lacing within his mane. The cold air would seep within, penetrating his drumbs if he allowed them to be alert at all times. But even so, a scream terrorized the terra, itching his listeners to alert, and take him to the breeder of such a sound. And so they did, but answers he did not acclaim. For the darkness was to heavy for him to find the maiden that the screech belonged too.

Even without the guidance, the red knight headed in the direction of the scream, blind to where the fae actually laid waiting. Another sound was made, closer this time. And 'twas the one of another sexed as himself. El Loco he should guess. By the tone, the depth of the vocals, and of course the lyrics of a hating being.

His movement was ceased, although his body still lay unnoticed by the pair. 'twas how he liked it. For he made enough sound approaching to startle the fae. Her pools would not be able to locate him. Or would they?

[||Prancer||Misha||Desire||]

^{Her lobes still lay against her skull, her feet not moving from their spot. She remained motionless, somwhat annoyed with herself. She had no idea where she was, what a great first impression she would make. Oh well, if whoever came didn't like her, that was tough. She really could care less what others thought about her. Her nostrils flared as the cold nipped at her, continuosly letting her know who might be in charge of her fate if she did not dry off soon. She gav a defient snort, stretching out her neck, she shook her body, shaking off some of the chill. Her lobes flicked foreword, sensing a figure in the distance. She could only see an outline, her eyes not adjusted to the pitch black endlessness. A small flash of uncertanty spread across her features, but as fast as it appeared, it disapeared. She had asked for whoever would come, and she could handle them anyway. She gave a proud step foreward, trying to get a better look at the beast. Her neck stayed arched, her nostrils flared, and steam still rose from her pelt, making her obvious in the moonlit light. His frame came into view, her first impressions being made. He seemed to be from a fairy tale. He stood tall in the moonlight, his frame well muscled, his eyes seemed intelligent. A very interesting fellow. Her lobes pricked forword at his words, thinking about what he had said. A dangerous ploy in so unstable a time... What were those words sopposed to mean? The darkness to her, was a friend when no others were there. She knew she could seek comfort in it. The dark masked everything, it even masked someones self being.
I had no intentions of requesting others attention from my "racket". I can handle my own, and I am not weak. Besides, why are you wandering these lands in the peak of darkness, at this time?
She eyed him suspiciosly. Perhaps, he would give her a hint as to her residence at the moment. A disturbance sent her lobes to lay flat against her skull. Another beast lurked in the darkness, but he would not make himself known. This was not the greatest first impression to her. Those would did not have the gull to go up to somone, but instead watch from the shadows, annoyed her. That was her perspective though. She was one to go up to someone new, not wait in the scenerory, waiting for the right moment. Her nostrils flared, as her front leg lifted, striking the earth in an aggressive manner.
Show yourself stranger.}

[F R O S T Y [sonata]]

Blackened shadows groped at the crimson stags breathers. Cold chills clinging to his body, holding him back like the slick fingers of death. His auduals flickered at the faes words. A bit of fear? Amusement played with his features, his pools dancing in the darkness. For shadows were his friend, keeping him alone when he wished to do so. For he would go see the mare, he enjoyed watching her reaction.

His flints stabbed into the loam as he moved his Arabic frame forward. Stepping upon drying leaves, crackling was let unto the still night air. El loco stood, his bod pressed near a dappled femora. Eyes glinted at the fae, for she seemed lost, deprived of the lands she should call home.

Lo, I am Chairo. And you are?

His voice still contained the stiffness of one not used for many years, but that was to be expected, for he had not used it in 5 winters. His nape was arched, his dial leveled flat. Paper thins flared pink around the rims. A grunt was let out. Well, well well. What do we have here?

Dagger was lifted, pistons bending at the mid joint. Dagger was dropped digging into the moist loam, killing the small plant life that dared to dwell upon the area of the shadows. Torn he was as his opticals fell upon the she devil before him. Was she right? For only the perfect ones he allowed to dwell upon his vast lands. Would she gain the ranks?

Flint struck forward, dial lowered dramatically. His joint was held strait, a standing extension. The bottom of his hoof was shown to the others. Rugged was the mane that drifted in the breeze, multiple small branches, stick and vegetation tangled within. But even with the ruggedness of the hard life he had passed, his muscles bulged in the correct places. Arabian build was near perfect, his crimson coat on fire. Would she notice the tangles and the roughness. Or would she see the sheer perfection in his look. The sheer perfection in his mind. For he would be the best.

[Necromancer]

"because I wish to"

Was the darkened lords only answer to the mares question as to why he wandered about at such a time, her question seemed to be fishing for a differant reply, but the beast withheld from explaining more fully for the moment.

Several steps were taken as the beast circled the mare to get a better look at her, thee was no threat to his motions thought his gait was quite predatory in nature, she called out another but the beast ignored it..there were many stags in this land, that another had come to the mares call was not unusual.

Finished his round the stag regarded the mare with a keen eye.

"You do not look weak..though your actions are perhaps a tad arrogant, arrogance is often misplaced"

He quipped as she demanded the other show themselves, he did not do so to insult the mare, simply cause her to think, brazen and bold she may be but smart? he would find out.

[||Prancer||Misha||Desire||]

Her eyes watched as the steed walked out from the shadows, his body illuminated for a moment or two. His blood bay body stood out against all the black. He was handsome, but her first impression had already been made. The crackling leaves crunched underneath the steeds feet. When she closed her eyes, she imagined the warm sizzling and cracking of a fire. A blanket of warmth fell over her as she daydreamed, but when her eyes opened, no fire was to be seen, and the stallion was within a few yards of her. His voice sounded somewhat hoarse, but it sounded better as the words flowed more gradually. Chairo.....odd name.... She thought to herself quietly. She wondered if she should give away her name yet. Identity is the one of the only things that is truly yours. A snort left her nostrils, and she shook her cranium once more, along with the rest of her body. Her lips formed words, and slowly they floated to the stallion's awaiting ears.
Dark Desire to those who know me, Desire to those who know me best.
She spoke in confident tone, a smirk across her lips, as clouds covered the moon, casting a pitch black endlessness. The mare snorted, her lobes flat against her skull for those few moments. She liked the darkness of course, but darkness with two other full grown horses, that could possibly take advantage of her, not a night she really desired. As the dark trance across the land ceased, the black steed spoke. A chuckle escaped her lips, either he knew her objective or he was being ignorant. Her eyes watched as he circled her, her brow was somewhat raised at his objective with doing this.
Getting a good look?
She asked suspiciously. After his words she nodded toward him. He spoke the truth. Her opinion grew as he spoke, compiling a more efficient and more fact full summary. She snorted softly, then her words flowed in responce.
As I said I can handle my own. With arrogance, which I sopposedly possess, comes wisdom. The wisdom to pick your battles, and Sir, I am smart enough to know when i can and cannot be matched.
She spoke in an annoyed tone, she was not arrogant. She was brave, that is what it took to survive. As the phraise goes:

It's not the size of the dog in the fight,
But the size of the fight in the dog.

[F R O S T Y [sonata]]

going out of town till sunday night, so i prolly wont be on until monday PLEASE WAIT!

[Necromancer]

kk

[F R O S T Y [sonata]]

Crimson equine stood quite still at her words. Hmm, desire. Odd name. Then again he had a fae named Promise. So it wasn't that odd. Omyx flint was lifted, tip being dug into the damp loam. Laynx rumbled as impatience,a characterhe inherited,began to set in. His maw opened, his larynx preparing the words that would be aloud to drift out.

Now, we all know why your here. I probably offer you no less protection and stability than this other brute, but yet i do offer you my dreams. If you accept to come with me you shall be a part of turning my herd unto the greatest nuetral terra of all time.

His voice was not arrogant. Just confident. He was a driven being.He knew what he wanted. And he would succeed.

||sorry this is sobad. out of town||

[Necromancer]

Ah well there it was..the mare could no doubt but know where she wandered now, the other offered the dreams of a neutral..The beast had no love of neutrals finding thier undecided ways somewhat of a cop-out, as though they couldn't be bothered to write history and so sat back to let others do it for them.

However several times in the past thier information..fore they tended yo speak to both sides, and thier numbers had proven decisive..if you could get them to lean you way, the stag knew of thier value..even if he did not agree with thier thinking.

The mares saucy question amused the beast though he did not show it, quipping back in an emotionless tone.

"perhaps I sought to see if you were injured?"
It was a joke, had she been injured the beast would not have stopped, though his humor was most often misunderstood or not at all noticed...not that it bothered him.

'Well worded mare, wisdom is the key most of my brethren lack..so strung on thier bloodthirsty tempers that they fail to grasp tactial thinking"

He did not offer the mare a herd or a home..simply because he did not have one, true such things were on his mind and steps were being taken in that direction, but the steed wished to see what the mare ..desired..so to speak.