Post by indigo on Feb 8, 2006 23:55:29 GMT -5
Call me Wake
Age me 5
Gender me Stallion
See me Rich Maghony
My blood lines are Quarter Horse
I was built 15.2 hands high, I am very broad
I usually loathe the light and treasure the darkness but change is 'pon me
Steed stained of enriched mahogany slid from the depthful pitch in idle sway. a heave here, a heave there. dome bobbed within the strong wake of he. frustration to burn. fuel the fire in which for three days was little of. he needed commotion. always. he was a stud of great porption. as he bubbled with possibilities. and that, my friend, was an annoyance. though it was the causing. that was the reason one so highly though of was to show himself in such corridors of that a cave barriers. for any sort of communication. it was easily predicted would be fumed like a disturbed predator, though contact was needed. a survival element may you say. jagged flints slipped atop the moistened loam as the bay had staggered forth unto what was a mortals bounds. ah. but sadly there was vacancy here, yet another need of his to be left unsatisfied. thank you. brutheren seemed to mutter greedily as a pleasured platform within such barriers was quickly selected. slowly he had ambled, as if to be saving time. though time was in stock. always. was it ever spent? never. only when you wanted it to. back in your younger days when time flew like free doves to the ellegant horizon.
time goes by, as you sit and rot.
take advantage of what you've got.
tick tock.
tick tock.
obsidian cord slickly slithered across the muscular mahogany dipped flank of he in swift manner, steed to draw to a smooth hault atop a large mound of compacted earthen materials. hollows billowed as the young had allowed a suttle sigh to flee into the distilled atmos. something. anything. he hadn't needed a rescue. no no. he needed an entertainment, and no monkey my friend. a being with an individual mind. one whom could honestly converse with he on interesting topics. he was aware no beckon to please every life like beast. only time would tell fate, correct? please. anyone. somone. sometime. today, maybe. mm. anytime now. was the only thing to emit from the polished russet. harli flickered every which way as he had grown distracted in little time. utter silence crept like a mild gas. it was sickening. no life to slip a sound. was a disgust. disgrace.
dare you attempt,
to tame me?
realize,
what youre dealing with.
the demons you free.
the soft blows of winter's blust had left him into dreamy state. a lance to the whirling scene set infront his own footings before he had been lulled into the daze of a past one. a winding tale may you say. of a male widow. thoughts whirled into one meld. the things of his past once again to slap him in the face. all of them.
[/color]Age me 5
Gender me Stallion
See me Rich Maghony
My blood lines are Quarter Horse
I was built 15.2 hands high, I am very broad
I usually loathe the light and treasure the darkness but change is 'pon me
Steed stained of enriched mahogany slid from the depthful pitch in idle sway. a heave here, a heave there. dome bobbed within the strong wake of he. frustration to burn. fuel the fire in which for three days was little of. he needed commotion. always. he was a stud of great porption. as he bubbled with possibilities. and that, my friend, was an annoyance. though it was the causing. that was the reason one so highly though of was to show himself in such corridors of that a cave barriers. for any sort of communication. it was easily predicted would be fumed like a disturbed predator, though contact was needed. a survival element may you say. jagged flints slipped atop the moistened loam as the bay had staggered forth unto what was a mortals bounds. ah. but sadly there was vacancy here, yet another need of his to be left unsatisfied. thank you. brutheren seemed to mutter greedily as a pleasured platform within such barriers was quickly selected. slowly he had ambled, as if to be saving time. though time was in stock. always. was it ever spent? never. only when you wanted it to. back in your younger days when time flew like free doves to the ellegant horizon.
time goes by, as you sit and rot.
take advantage of what you've got.
tick tock.
tick tock.
obsidian cord slickly slithered across the muscular mahogany dipped flank of he in swift manner, steed to draw to a smooth hault atop a large mound of compacted earthen materials. hollows billowed as the young had allowed a suttle sigh to flee into the distilled atmos. something. anything. he hadn't needed a rescue. no no. he needed an entertainment, and no monkey my friend. a being with an individual mind. one whom could honestly converse with he on interesting topics. he was aware no beckon to please every life like beast. only time would tell fate, correct? please. anyone. somone. sometime. today, maybe. mm. anytime now. was the only thing to emit from the polished russet. harli flickered every which way as he had grown distracted in little time. utter silence crept like a mild gas. it was sickening. no life to slip a sound. was a disgust. disgrace.
dare you attempt,
to tame me?
realize,
what youre dealing with.
the demons you free.
the soft blows of winter's blust had left him into dreamy state. a lance to the whirling scene set infront his own footings before he had been lulled into the daze of a past one. a winding tale may you say. of a male widow. thoughts whirled into one meld. the things of his past once again to slap him in the face. all of them.
