[.Lionhearts and Misfits.] Posted on April 15, 2015 at 00:56:46 AM by Al-Sarim
al-sarim
The Misfit had come to the palace of the Lion,
And bore him the gift of an ancient dagger.
The handle had been adorned with gems and carvings.
The Lion saw the value of the dagger as well as its danger,
And knew the Misfit to be every bit as deceitful as the weapon.
But the wise one knew what he might gain,
Acquiring both dagger and its true master.
In time the Misfit came to learn that the Lion was every bit as clever as he,
And a respect and fondness grew there for the great one.
The Lion in like called the Misfit his ally, his brother, his friend.
The past would always live on in the lyrics of poets, so it was in the old country and moreso among the desert born who were notorious for their oral traditions. He arose before dawn as was his custom. He offered a small prayer to the desert stars as they began to fade away and motioned off again into this strange wilderness. He had lived in the desert for what seemed like a long time. Yet the adjustment to the land that bustled with commotion, where many equines roamed alone or in cadres, and where the seasons were more varied than the sandy wastelands was a fairly easy one. The black-bay herald had felt destiny had called him out, though for what he did not yet know. All that was for certain that the world was a playground until destiny might reveal itself once more to him.
In the morning twilight he picked through forests, crossed a meadow and entered the woods on the other end of the lithe. Light was gradually pouring into the overhead sky when he chanced to find a fruit tree. The apple on it was a orange rose color, somewhat strange to him, but he did not find any danger about the fruit. The birds seemed to be enjoying it he thought, as he spied holes in some of the succulent fruits. The beast picked one morsel and set out towards where the falls were. Al-Sarim was no stranger her, for he frequented the waters but kept himself concealed as much as possible. He remained out of sight and most of the time downwind from where other equines were so as to hide his scent. The brute was adept at stealth as was natural for any good thief. The hellion had climbed the rockface to where a ledge was. A large tree with its long branches covered the spot, and vines dropped from above where the falls tumbled down, offering some covering again to the place. The brute settled to lay there and enjoy his treat. Just as he was to finish the last of the fruit, he spied a trio moving down below: a stallion and two pretty young mares. Thorns flicked as the femms quickly caught his interest (women had always been the brute's vice).
Curiously the stallion left them, at which the girls fell into play (well at least one did). One fae managed to cause the other, whom he presumed to be her sister, to topple over causing a splash. Sarim smiled fondly at the sight but remained where he was. In time another stallion approached. Auds fell mildly as he observed the young steed's attempts to make a good first impression to the lassies. The brute chuckled quietly as he took his last bite. Water fell against the walls to one side of the ledge, and there he reached his maw and took a drink before making the descent down. The rest of the drop was still nearly the height of himself but he jumped the rest of the way landing nimbly on his hooves (and with every intention of startling the company below).
"And I am Al-Sarim, though you may call me Sarim. The stars are gracious that I might find myself in such fair company." The hellion was older than the current company, though his physique hardly showed. His voice was alive and energetic with a hint of edge, and there was a strange accent to complement his suave. His dark eyes moved from the stallion to the pretty mares, and a warm smile curled on his velvetine lips.
Stallion|Anglo-Arabian x Andalusian x Akhal Teke|Seven Years|Dark Bay|16.2hh|Dark Brown Eyes