Golden Plains
The haven of dandelions, roses, and daises, there would be no better description of Golden Plains than a touch of gold. It’s as if the fabled King Midas flew down, caressing every flower and leaf. The sun, also a bright gold high in the sky, rains down little drops of more gold, sprinkling it’s magic upon everything within this gemstone of a land.
This land is closed. It is no longer habitable.
triumph through sacrifice
IP: 144.136.134.15
Posted on March 24, 2007 at 09:31:43 AM by SEKHMET
SEKHMET
triumph through sacrifice
Well, there was really no choice in the manner of it all, though in retrospect there wasn’t much to complain about. Sekhmet’s choice of arrival into the claiming grounds had probably not been the safest, much less the most stallion avoiding choice. But then again, who was to say that she wanted to remain unclaimed? She knew that, given her pure lines, such a state would not last long anyway. But if he had not approached her, who would’ve? There were a great many stallions out there that would rather mount a mare in heat and rape her in claiming rather than apply the nip she had received. In that manner of thinking, Sekhmet was very fortunate. Though, if one had approached her and asked, well, she would’ve been very confused. What kind of stallion asked a mare to join him? Even Sekhmet did not expect that of a stallion, and that in itself was something.
Despite her luck in walking from the claiming grounds will her honour intact, she had to question the reliability of this stallion that had claimed her in his fog of lust. He was young, that much was gathered from him. He had the eyes of a stallion untouched by deceit and in some respect, the knowledge of what a mare was capable of. It was a dangerous thing. While he might’ve indeed by lured to her for her exotic background and attitude, wiser, older stallions had probably avoided her for those same reasons. It was a sad fact that, despite scolding from many elder herd advisors, her father had invoked, even encouraged her feisty spirit. Hence her name, Sekhmet. By the ancient Egyptian belief, Sekhmet was the Goddess of War, with the head of a lioness, and the ruthlessness so potent that it was challenged by no other. An honour, she found it to be, named after a great Egyptian Goddess. Though, in these lands, things were a great deal different, and others may have seen her as a curse. Funnily enough, the elders of Sekhmet’s past herd would agree with them.
She was somewhat pleased with the result her own warning had gotten. He was not so close to her mass, and therefore less of an imposing presence. She had seen that the motion had frustrated him, and it was that she had reflected on as he’d eyed her with that careless stare of his. Don’t try to play ‘Who’s bolder’ boy, you lost the minute you approached, she thought to herself with a cocky amusement. Though, you wouldn’t know it, the way she stood there with a less than impressed look on her face. This stallion was almost humorous to her, the way he seemed to drift from awe to annoyance and back again. She would grow to find that quite funny, a possible bad trait he would later come to detest. Then again, maybe he would find amusement in it too, and it would become their game.
Hearing his cold response to her exotic accented words, one ear slowly rose from its bed of silver threads, a ‘brow’ raised as she watched him take the lead before her in his movement to guide her towards her new home. Snorting some, she rolled her eyes, pinning her ear again before she took up a distanced stride behind him, her neck arched slightly while she slipped into a trot behind him. Her stride was fluid, like the movement of a cobra on the sand, as was expected. She paid little attention to the other mares, or stallions, as she passed through the realm, expressive dark eyes kept locked on the back of her captors head to be able to follow his lead accordingly. Other than that, he may as well have not been there at all, as she made no attempt to start conversation. That would be left to when she actually had a reason to talk to him. In the meantime, she would occasionally glance to her sides, watching the autumn leaves fall from bare branches and study the unique landscapes that littered the path to her new home. At one point, she had even paused briefly as a leaf ridden wind swept from her left, the current of the breeze slipping under her mane and tail. The gust was cool and refreshing, and because of such she’d indulged in the momentary cold. In doing so, she lifted her head slightly, nostrils flared and eyes closed while she picked up on the scents. That was, until she felt someone’s gaze upon her, at which she sharply looked to the stallion, and continued after him.
Eventually, the scenery was no longer a dapple of oranges and reds, rather, a sea of gold, laid out before her in rich pastures. Its luminance was reflected upon her coat, in the gleam of her dark brown eyes. Much like the desert, one colour seemed to dominate the scheme of the territory, and it was such a grand sight to behold. Even Sekhmet could not argue its strange, almost otherworldly beauty. And yet here she was; the silver amongst the gold as one of the starkest contrasts. Taking in a deep breath, she waited for the steel grey stallion to halt before she moved to his side, keeping a respectful two feet from his own build while overlooking the vast scenery. Her eyes remained, for a time, locked upon the golden realm, lit by its vibrancy, but otherwise unreadable. Such a thing may’ve been good or bad, but it would be known soon enough.
From behind another gust swept through, carrying with it feathery seeds and dried leaves over into the valley before them, though not before it played with both their manes, stringing Sekhmet’s with the delicate seeds. And yet, she was silent, her breath the only thing heard until the announcement of his name caught her attention, ears pricked to hear the dubbance. “Evander…” She echoed thoughtfully, her gaze slowly shifting back to the stallion as she let the foreign name slide over her tongue. “It’s most peculiar, your name.” She stated, her tone holding less of a hostile force behind it. Turning her head back towards the realm, she was quiet once more, if only briefly before uniquely accented words slipped from her lips. “I am Sekhmet, one of many daughters from Saudi Arabia. There, names like yours are quite uncommon.” She murmured; blinking the loose threads from her vision as the winds died down. She had probably surprised him again with her less snappy attitude. It was generous for her not to be as snappy. But yet, her tone was still cautious. Questioningly, subtly, cautious.
name // SEKHMET
age // FIVE
gender // FEMALE
breed // ARABIAN
hue // DAPPLED GREY
played by // NIGHTSHADE
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