HoofPrince XVI: Eos

Accept the fires from which I came ;;

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The Storm

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The Lightning

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The Cloudlings

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The Winds

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The Thunder

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The Rains

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The Trove

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Next Judgement

TBD

Chains on your soul, whips up your back
IP: 50.47.0.174



He was upon her before she could even begin to process what had happened let alone react to the affront. A wince was pulled from her child like features as the sharpened points of the obsidian antlers pressed against her throat, slitting the champagne skin and spilling the first droplets of blood as instinct took over and she tried to move away. Her ears swung wildly about in her confusion and shock, flittering nervously upon her skull, hazel eyes flashing white at the suddenness of the whole thing. Slowly her brain began to click on and whirr, beginning to process (or at least attempting to) what exactly was going on. She was still breathing and not bleeding to death. By all accounts, she was "fine", thus far anyway. She was still at Cronus' mercy however, he being the one who had the upper hand or antler as the case may be. Yet her voice wouldn't remained caged in her throat, spilling forth in a show of the curiousity and bravery of the innocent and naive.

Have you become king since my last visit? I think I'm free to wander as I will even if it means crossing kingdom lines...

Her voice was firm and surprisingly stead, even if she swallowed hard, those razored points still far too close to her throat for her liking. Weight shifted from side to side, nervous but with all the grace of a ballerina as to where she placed her feet. It was needed after all, one false move could end with her impaled upon those points like a salmon upon a fisherman's spear. She could feel the dribble of blood scabbing and flaking on her neck, even if the smell of copper remained sharp as ozone in the air. Breath shuddered from her lungs, trying to force the near painfully tensed muscles along her spine to relax, hazel eyes still wide and unblinking as they stared as the stallion that held her in such a precarious position. There was no doubt in the champagne girl's mind that even if she sent a prayer winging to the heavens in this moment that hung so uncertainly upon a single delicate thread, that this situation was about to end in any way but peacefully. She could only hope as fiercely as possible that maybe, somehow, someone would stumble upon the monochrome pair before the affair in question turned violent or even deadly.



tadpole
Music box, won't you sing me a lullaby?



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