In the s h a d o w of a [star]

[{Risada}]

(I realize I never began)

She was a dark russet. Tinged with a bloody crimson that blended together to deepen the mixture to a caliginous tawny coloring. This spread over her physique like watercolor paints on a soft textured surface. Black points marred this perfect fusion of pigmentation. Her complexion of her bodice flashed brilliantly with a pure ivory star upon her tiara. Mustang lineage shone perfectly through her hardy appearance and sturdy build. Fur changed smoothly to silky threads reaching from her roots down her nape and behind her burly hind pillars. Each thread was woven beautifully into a tapestry of feminine art. Accurate auditives pricked atop her skull and twitched suddenly. Pace increased in speed and urgancy. Sharp pedestals were that of a horse run wild all her young life.

Though little in years she was relatively wealthy in intelligence and understanding. Though the bodice could be said as exceptional, inside were many hidden disfigurants. Being a neutral she could often lean to either side. There were occasional mood swings, and she often got along well with those of darker alignment. Femme could sound lazy, indifferent, and would often snap back. She had a tendency to despise extremists and to get competitive with other femmoras. But this was her, and she was disinclined to change herself. Everyone had strengths and weaknesses. Some chose to accept this like her, while others would drive into the road of denial. So be it. Their problem, not hers.

Sharp flints cut open the soft loam before her. Mercilessly they ripped the embodiment of earthen structure beneath her. This, she supposed, was the difference that made her despise those of light lineage. She was an individual, who would not hide her true thoughts and be fake in front of different horses. She was herself. She let others know what she thought. Often blunt. Sometimes quieter. Never allowing others to control her thoughts and actions. Risada wished to be different. She would not pursue leadership, nor would she act kind to those she hated. Femme was blunt and truthful. Occasionally deceitful, but not when she wished to let something change.

Narles flared occasionally and ligaments decelerated until movement ceased altogether. Here. The scent was filling and strong. Equines. The mixture of aromas filled her with much needed hope. So she was not alone anymore-didn't need to fend for herself anymore. She could rely on another for once perhaps. This proposition sounded odd to her-it would be good to rely on another, and yet she didn't want them to let her down. Dial raised into a ready position, keen occuli stretched over the blank canvas. Short whinny released from her rumbling vocals and settled into a gentle whicker. Then silence.

(But from the start I'd been deceived)

[Necromancer]

The beast as many other stags did..found himself idely wandering these grounds of claiming, though he despised the act he knew well the necessity of it. Though for him the task was somewhat more difficult then most others found it..the ebon creature was picky in his choices, disinclined to snap up whichever fae voiced her presence, furthermore the beast sought loyal followers rather then forced mares..after all one had to sleep sometime, a hard thing to do if the very mares you lived with sought to snuff out your existence.

Mare..he could do without them..there was no love lost between the ebon beast and the feminine forms he sought, they were often materialistic, wishing land and undivided attentions, and yet to get land one must first have a femmes..it was a vicious circle which vexed the creature..though he did not show it.

SLinking through the shadows, thier grasping tendrils seeming to near come alive at his passing, reaching to caress him as though he were a long lost lover, in turn her merged with them... the depth of his ebon colouring striking him a near living shadow as he made his silent way across the lands.

A calling sounded near by and the beast changed path to investigate one so bold as to shout forth her presence, soon he found himself stalking the fae..lingering in the shadows as he studied her blood hued hide, His gaze rested on the keeness of her gaze..true intelligence sparked there and such a thing was hard to find.

stepping forth the dark lord shed his shadowy lovers to reveal himself to the femmenora, onxy hooves striking the ground silently, a stride which seemed more predatory then equine, the assassin's body settled into a statuelike stillness, only the breeze created movement about the beast as he regarded her, sending tendrils of his long tresses to weave patterns in the air..and while in contrast to his stillness the whole effect simply made the creature more etheral in apperence..a living shadow more then mortal creature.

Fixing the mare with studious gaze, his eyes a fathomless depths so dark they seemed to twist the light which reached them, pulling it down into thier depths to engulf them in his shadowy existence, and yet beneath such darkness resided a cunning and intelligence rarely seen..the beast was no fool.

"Who do you call forth Blood mare?"

As the beast knew not the mares name he would as he always did simply assign her a nickname, his mind remebered these names..and often times years later would he meet one long ago crossed and call forth such names once more..it often vexed those he labeled..and yet others found it amusing..it was simply the beasts way.