Your King Asmodeus | ||
Your Queen | ||
The Second None | ||
The Herd Name, Name, Name | The Sub-Herd Name, Name, Name | |
Allies Name (Land) | Enemies Solomon (Cove) | |
The Rules
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Posted on January 16, 2013 at 00:09:37 AM by el aran
He came, as El Aran knew he would. The spirits that rose from the sands seemed to part before his feet and she watched him with the same suspicion she regarded everyone who was not the blood of her blood. Her ears turned first to the sides, then back as he drew closer, and she held herself still until she could see the lashes on his eyes. Only then did she step forward and out of the water. The seer’s muscles were tight but she did not strike out, not yet, and as he spoke and dipped his head to her, El Aran’s ears lifted in shock. Though clearly bred for desert life, the stallion carried neither the sheen of an Alkhal-Teke nor the pronounced dish in the face of the Arabian, but atop his head were ears so curious she couldn’t help but stare at the way they curled in towards each other. It was only with his next remark that she was able to tear her eyes away and focus on his face.
Her ears turned back again. "I am still here," she said, her voice hard and her accent more pronounced than it had been since their last unwanted visitor. "And I will not be displaced by you." She would not be driven out. The Desert was her home, and she would fight for the rights to the oasis behind her without tiring. The black mare would not be removed from the sands again, not from coercion or bribery or threats. She arched her neck and pawed at the earth with one chipped hoof, well aware that she was little more than skin and bones held together by desperation. It would not be a long fight, but her own stubborn nature would drive her to her death. The stallion reached for her son and she squealed a warning, lunging with her own teeth to snap at the air near the stranger’s face. She did not bite him, not yet, though as her son backpedaled and splashed into the waters of the oasis, El Aran did push herself aggressively against the stallion, her mouth open and teeth hovering over his skin in a threat. She could feel her legs trembling with the anxiety that always fueled her fights, and there was the stronger shudder of exhaustion there as well. She slept poorly on the infrequent occasions she did sleep, and it was difficult to graze and protect herself and her son from all the imagined threats beyond the horizon. She would not win this fight. El Aran backed away without pressing her teeth into his skin, though she held one forehoof off the ground to lash out at the stallion if he came near her son uninvited again. "Do not touch him," she said. "I am El Aran, lead mare of this desert. That is my son, Orhan." She put her hoof down to hold herself steady. She did not sense animosity from this stallion, and there was no indication of his belonging to a Purebred line. Perhaps he would be good to them. "Welcome." el aran
Seer of Aşk. |
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Replies:
- the artist's palette falls - By r e n a i s s a n c e January 16, 2013 at 08:01:38 PM
- dust becomes us all, in the end - By o r h a n January 20, 2013 at 09:02:57 PM
- the gods contend in vain - By el aran January 23, 2013 at 04:37:49 AM
- the artist's palette falls - By r e n a i s s a n c e January 29, 2013 at 08:21:23 PM
- the gods contend in vain - By el aran January 29, 2013 at 10:28:06 PM
- the artist's palette falls - By r e n a i s s a n c e January 29, 2013 at 08:21:23 PM
- the gods contend in vain - By el aran January 23, 2013 at 04:37:49 AM
- dust becomes us all, in the end - By o r h a n January 20, 2013 at 09:02:57 PM
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