Meadow
Force-claiming is not allowed here. This is a peaceful, neutral area meant for socialising.
Posted on April 9, 2020 at 02:59:16 PM by VERCINGETORIX
His gods were distant stories, tales that only he and his children held. Like little bedtime stories, he had bestowed upon his offspring the histories that he had learned, and they had listened eagerly to stories of wars, and deception, sometimes love and loss. Children were simple- easy.
Vercingetorix often wondered how well they fared in the world, once they fled from his shadow and disappeared into the trees.
The women that gather around him wear different scents and seem to all be of different homes and upbringings, and while the golden woman seems to crowd closer to their larger comrade, he watches quietly as the silver haired girl retreats from their gathering, and he is curious. Often, they are sociable creatures, preferring to live in groups and travelling as herds, but he can see the way she seems to curl into herself, pulling away from the group and distancing herself a little.
“Are you alright?” He is concerned, like a mother tending to a sick child, he wants to reach out to her, but instead finds himself rooted to the spot and he lets her go, suddenly aware of how closely the four of them had been standing. In any other setting the red stallion would be flattered for the attention from so many women, but the nervous demeanour of the painted mare makes him uneasy, and he wonders if there is something she knows that he is stupidly unaware of.
So he lets her retreat, watching her feet carefully as she does so, before turning back to the others after careful consideration. “My name is Vercingetorix.” His name, a careful, almost foreign lilt to it, tastes strange on his own tongue. Like it had been a lifetime since he had last spoke it. “Are you from somewhere much warmer?” He knows of the peak, and the cold the mountains can see in the winter, but the palomino painted mare has flesh not yet accustomed to the chill of winter, as he has only seen in the creatures that danced along the sands in the desert.
Vercingetorix often wondered how well they fared in the world, once they fled from his shadow and disappeared into the trees.
The women that gather around him wear different scents and seem to all be of different homes and upbringings, and while the golden woman seems to crowd closer to their larger comrade, he watches quietly as the silver haired girl retreats from their gathering, and he is curious. Often, they are sociable creatures, preferring to live in groups and travelling as herds, but he can see the way she seems to curl into herself, pulling away from the group and distancing herself a little.
“Are you alright?” He is concerned, like a mother tending to a sick child, he wants to reach out to her, but instead finds himself rooted to the spot and he lets her go, suddenly aware of how closely the four of them had been standing. In any other setting the red stallion would be flattered for the attention from so many women, but the nervous demeanour of the painted mare makes him uneasy, and he wonders if there is something she knows that he is stupidly unaware of.
So he lets her retreat, watching her feet carefully as she does so, before turning back to the others after careful consideration. “My name is Vercingetorix.” His name, a careful, almost foreign lilt to it, tastes strange on his own tongue. Like it had been a lifetime since he had last spoke it. “Are you from somewhere much warmer?” He knows of the peak, and the cold the mountains can see in the winter, but the palomino painted mare has flesh not yet accustomed to the chill of winter, as he has only seen in the creatures that danced along the sands in the desert.
VERCINGETORIX
image by sabrina / html by russell
Replies:
- The Nine Tailed Fox - By Kyuubi April 11, 2020 at 10:51:48 PM
Post a reply: