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symptoms of the culture (rejoin..?) Posted on July 1, 2020 at 03:00:55 PM by pacino
Member Name: Elvin
Character Name: Pacino
Gender: Male
Breed: Andalusian Hybrid
Color: Bay Tobiano
Height: 16hh
Age: 14
Member Contact: elvin (#2227) on discord
Kate has pulled me back in. I've been here before, years ago, though :P If you would still like a sample post, I can provide one :)
Edit: I'll just go ahead and toss one in here to be safe :P
Sample:
This is not the first, nor will it be the last, time he has cause to wonder just what it is that draws others to him. He is so simple in appearance and so unassuming - he can remember a day when stallions of his stature would prance and gambol through the meadow, flinging their heads and boldly approaching any unattended mare as if they were kings in their own rights. Perhaps it was that sort of behavior that had rendered him so tame and mellow in this place.
As he observes the quiet pairs and groups of horses either hosting their own late-night discussions or sharing strength in numbers against predators (or, more likely, enemies), he wonders if those times have returned or remained the same as he last remembers. At present, it seems as quiet as ever, though it may only be that the cover of darkness does not yield the clearest observations. Regardless, the gentle chorus of crickets and quiet sighs and snorts all remind him of the old days and so many experiences here. Arguments and professions of love, forays into conspiracy and invitations to war - they swirl in his mind like smoke, perhaps clouding his vision momentarily.
A disturbance in the stillness stirs that fog from his eyes, however, and when he lifts his gaze he beholds the burnt mare approaching him, a crackle of light just fading from around her body. The display leaves him somewhat curious as well - at least there was still fresh magic here and he is not alone (although truthfully he’d never been afraid of that). Her voice is rugged like sandstone on flesh and it is something of a surprise, though that only shows in the slightest smirk on his mouth. “Hello,” he replies to her greeting just as plainly. The bounding urge to ask what had happened to leave her in such a raw and roasted state does not survive the gauntlet of his politeness, though perhaps if he had been younger he would not have hesitated.
Luckily, this brief internal debate leaves enough time for Scorch to speak again and the dappled stallion nods slightly. “I have been here many times, yes,” he replies vaguely. “What gave me away?” His tone in this question is almost coy as he tilts his head a little, but they are soon joined by a third party in the form of another dappled stallion who looks a bit similar to him but is otherwise unfamiliar.
Everclear knows nothing of the current power struggled and new lands that house the more political groups of Beqanna’s inhabitants. Kingdom life had worn him to the bone in the heyday of his life and yet, much like the Meadow, the devotion and goal-driven life of such structured organizations had always appealed to him eventually. Despite the most glorious struggles he endured and the even grander falls he had taken, the urge to prove himself never seemed to be quenched. Perhaps that is what comes of being born a colt in the Amazonian queendom.
“I seem to recall that the Meadow was always a place of open conversation, Arthas,” he replies to the youngest of their party, mentally scoffing at what he himself perceived as fake wisdom lacing into his words. “I am Everclear.” He swishes his dark tail against his haunches and shifts his weight a little, but he doesn’t expect either of them to recognize the name. “What brings you both to my side tonight?”