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Post by Abba on Jun 14, 2011 14:32:57 GMT -5
Resounding Memories;;RastaNo I can't take one more step towards you, cause all that's waiting is regret Rasta's head dropped quietly to the floor. Too many vibrations. She had no clue where she was. But, the sound of a stag's voice shook her back slightly. And when he touched her flank, it reminded her of Panic. Panic. Was he here? He wouldn't let her sit here so vulnerable in this storm. He couldn't. That wasn't the way he had worked. Her mind went back quite a few years, at least back enough for the war to be in play, so that they were together. Yes, this stag was Panic. Scathashoun did not exist. "He can... he can stay..." she nickered lightly, reaching her maw out as it got pounded by the rain, and wishing that Panic might touch her maw. "Panic. He can stay. It's fine, Adalie..." she snorted back, not feeling his touch anymore. She was so lost. Where was she exactly? Too much water running off of everything and combining together. As she slowly managed to get her bearings back the thunder crashed again and she was completly lost. This time, she couldn't even feel the ground underneath her. The rain continued to pound against her coat, some of it cutting into her thin skin. She had always been the first one to get injured in a fight, it was just the way she was built and she could feel some of this 'rain' hit harder than it should, causing her to believe it was turning into hail, and she couldn't move to get out of it.
----------Behind the post---------- . 277 words . Done while eating my lunch . Past memories FTW. XD [/size]
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Post by whiskey on Jun 14, 2011 14:56:18 GMT -5
Whiskey!
Whiskey, disgust on his face, rose his head higher than "Scathashoun's" head. "It is not fear you will need, it is strength and guts," Whiskey breathed deeply, bloating his body, making himself seem bigger, and emphasizing his muscles. He examined the green brute, obviously older but not one to act as such, his scars and deep cuts he'd already obtained before his ill remarks were seen easily under the gloomy clouds and intensified by the racing water in the air. "But it seems you lack the ability to begin a fight. Watch your words, they might get you killed one day. Your 'bravery' is activated by the ignorance you uphold. You are vulnerable and weak, the words you are using will only increase your pain." Whiskey needed not a formal introduction to this stag to know that he was already much wiser than the brute. As the silence went on after Scathashoun's remark, he moved aside some as the golden mare addressed the new stag, but without moving his eyes from Scathashoun. His anger raged but this was something Whiskey had, control. He controlled his instincts and used them to his best advantage when needed, unlike this one.
As he saw Rasta collapse he almost ran to her side to nip the "hound" away from her flank, but to Rasta's request for him to stay was what he would respect. Though confused and though angered further, he held in his thoughts his strength. He remembered his moral, Befriend who you can. Enemies were not something you wanted out here.
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Black Thorns
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Post by Black Thorns on Jun 14, 2011 17:30:14 GMT -5
Scathashoun brought his head up above the head of the smaller stallion, blowing up his body was well. "I am perfectly capable of fighting another, though I prefer not to. As you see by my wounds, I was quite recently in one myself; however, the fight did not, as you seem to believe, end in the opponent's favor," he replied curtly, his voice collected and perfectly calm, pulling in his emotions and speaking with a voice as cold as the pouring rain. "You, as well, should watch your words, sir; you may find them to cause your ultimate ruin," he finished, turning from the stag. Oh, he had acted rashly and without control; for some odd reason, the mare, and his false mother, had caused these reactions in him. Unlike the stag who believed he was much wiser and much more controlled than Scath, Scathshoun could very well put up his own barriers, control every emotion he felt or allowed himself to feel; in all reality, Scathashoun was a very patient, controlled, and strategic horse. However, today had been one of those rare days when his control had slipped, fallen from his grasp. He couldn't, wouldn't allow that to happen again. He hardly cared, truly, that this stag believed he was wiser and far more controlled than him; Scathashoun had controlled himself from the first few months after birth. Six years of control without a single lapse... well, it was bound to happen at some point. A volcano must have its natural outlet, lest it bottle up its pressure and explode, destroying everything and everyone about it. Wisdom and control followed this stag like a pair pet dogs, never leaving his side, though there is the one time when they leave, but are soon found once more and returned to the side of their master. Scath so adored Wisdom and Control that they never seemed to want to leave him, only ever gone when he had seen this mare, this wonderful, beautiful, gorgeous mare...
Panic? Who was this Panic of which Rasta, as he now knew the mare to be considered, spoke of? It seemed to be that he was addressed as this horse, addressed with sudden affection on longing. The mare reached out, seeking comfort in the form of touch from him- Panic, but it seemed that Scathashoun was now Panic, here to aid and comfort Rasta. He touched his muzzle to hers, the touch seeming to be calming and helping the mare to recover from the fear of the storm. The water running on both of their coats intermingled, falling down onto the ground below them. Hail began to fall sparingly, little bits of ice that he hissed silently in pain from as they hit his freshly cleaned and reopened wounds. "Come, Rasta," he murmured, "Let's get you out of this storm." He nudged the mare gently, trying to aid her back onto her own hooves.
-behind the post- 492 words No real muse Done after eating microwave pizza and listening to the thunderstorm outside.
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Post by Abba on Jun 14, 2011 17:54:59 GMT -5
Resounding Memories;;RastaWho will save your soul when it comes to flower? Who will save your soul after all the lies you told, boy? Rasta's whole body shuddered, the pain from the pelting pieces of falling ice beginning to cut into her thin pelt. Cutting so horribly into her pelt that she could feel the warmth of her own blood lingering against her shoulder, and intermingling with the cold rain. Then, it would be washed away. A few other cuts and wounds began to open up intermetinly along her back and her face. But, as the ice hit her face, it caused her to jerk back from his touch, jarring her mind back to reality. There had been no hail in the storm she had been in with Panic. She was not back in that memory. Snorting, she carefully stood up, shaking off her coat and wincing as yet another piece of hail pounded against her cranium. She snapped out at his touch with her strong jaws. "Get away from me, you Hound! You are not Panic!" she said, oblivious to the fact that Panic had never actually been here. Her ears pinned again as she trotted into the forest, her hips swaying ever so slightly with every step as she desperately fought to stay aware of her surroundings. The thunder hadn't clapped for quite some time, and she could almost feel a cave to her right, a few yards out. But, the minute she hit the thicker portion of the forest the thunder clapped again, immediately causing her to loose her footing, and the idea of where she was. Cautiously, she stood up again, the trees helping to keep the hail from falling and hitting her again. Though, she had absolutely no clue where she was, and she couldn't tell the openings from the trees. As she bolted forward at full force, she didn't duck out of the way of a tree, slamming straight into it, causing the tree to shake, and her to fall on her knees again, a bit of blood now trickling down her forehead and into her mouth. She could taste the saltyness of it, and smell the rust-like scent that burned her nostrils. Blinking once, she realized it had been wrong to push away someone who might just help and she wished she hadn't. Though, she had to admit, he was quite the mannerless brute, and she would never fully take to him she did need someone at her side. As she lay there, she began to feel dizzy and weak. She couldn't stay awake. Just... sleep. Yes, maybe sleep would help her. The rain now not as hard, thanks to the tree cover, and she allowed her head to sink to the ground, ontop of her knees as she lay there right next to the tree base. She closed her eyes and soon, she was out like a light. You might usually say that everything went black, but as it was there was no other colour for her. Honestly, she couldn't even feel anything anymore, her mind just stopped paying attention and forming pictures from the vibrations she was constently taking in. That was how she knew she got sleep, if she had periods of time where she couldn't picture anything. And as she lay there, asleep, she allowed dreams of Panic to take over and lull her even deeper asleep, the emotional and physical pain finally taking the toll on her body...
----------Behind the post---------- . 587 words . Done while rocking out to the Rock station on Music Choice . Don't you just love flashbacks? [/size]
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Post by aPPY on Jun 14, 2011 18:33:16 GMT -5
adalie!the playful one » Adalie backed away as Rasta seemed to want Scathashoun to stay. She narrowed her eyes at the stag and snorted before looking back at Rasta as she called him 'Panic.' Who was Panic and why was she calling the stallion this? The other stag backed off as well but Adalie stood close, her eyes trained on Scathashoun, not trusting him at all. Rasta had lifted her head, seeking touch from the black form she had been so angry at moments before. "Come, Rasta, let's get you out of this storm," he said and nudged her gently. Adalie exhaled a deep breath and shook her head as the raindrops turned to hail and beat against her body with merciless force.
» Adalie stepped back as Rasta rose, her moment of confusion turned to anger as she reached for Scathashoun with teeth. "Get away from me, you Hound! You are not Panic!" she said before turning and trotting away, into the cover of the trees. Adalie watched as her golden form disappeared into the darkness and turned back to the stallion that had caused this. "I think you should leave," she hissed, her ears blending with her dark tresses and her blue orbs narrowed in disgust. She then pivoted and took off after Rasta, hoping the other mare hadn't gotten far.
» Thunder rumbled across the ground and Adalie winced as a few pieces of hail fell through the trees and onto her back. She heard a loud thump and the rustling of a tree and slid to a stop. "Rasta?" she called, hoping the mare wasn't hurt. She jogged in the general direction the sounds had come from, her feet slipping in the slick mud that had formed on the forest floor. "Rasta?" she called again before seeing her laying next to a tree. She slowed to a walk, stepping up to the other mare and lowering her head. "Rasta?" she asked carefully, gently nudging her still form. She noticed the blood sliding down her face from a gash on her forehead. She sighed and pushed more firmly, "Rasta, come on. Wake up."
word count » 353
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Black Thorns
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A writer starts a book. A reader finishes it.
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Post by Black Thorns on Jun 14, 2011 19:53:13 GMT -5
Scath had merely touched the mare as it seemed to be the best option at the time; she, obviously, was in no state to accept that there was another stallion there besides this "Panic", and would most likely have reacted worse had be told her who he was. Yet he never said, specifically, he WAS Panic; he simply tried his best to comfort her in the oncoming storm. As the ice turned to hail, the mare seemed to regain her senses. Before he could pull back and explain, the palomino mare snapped at his muzzle, leaving a gash on his lip. He swore, most of the wounds on his body were from this spitfire of a mare. The mare screamed at him; "Get away from me, you hound! You are not Panic!" Yes, he was not this Panic that she spoke of; he wasn't necessarily imitating him, either. He'd simply offered comfort, which the mare had rejected. No matter; if comfort was not what this mare wanted, he would not give it to her. That was simple. However, leaving her, disoriented, unable to fend for herself, in this storm was simply laughable. He'd help her, yes; but he'd be an emotionless stone as he did, not caring if her emotions were hurt by a sharp, bluntly true tongue. She wanted a fight; a fight she would get, a battle of will and verbal swords. The mare got up, thundering into the cover of the trees. Let her go for a moment, he thought, let her see how she will be unable to go anywhere in this storm without aid. He turned his attention to the other mare, the one he had ignored until this point. "I think you should leave," the mare hissed angrily, seeming not to care that he had attempted to aid her in this storm, not caring that he had been the one to immediately comfort her- though, his bleeding lip proved that that had been rather ineffective. "No," He replied simply, before the other mare made her way into the forest. Rolling his dark eyes, Scath flicked his tail quickly to shake off the stuck-on ice, heading out the way both mares went. He saw ahead of him the palomino hitting an overhanging branch, gashing her head open and falling to the ground. His first instinct was to race as fast as he could and try to help her, but he pushed that initial thought down into the deepest crevice of his mind. He, instead, moved over the floor as a leisurely pace, instead of the mare ahead of him who loped ahead to the mare, her hooves sliding around in the wet, muddied forest floor. Scathashoun moved carefully, his dark hooves sinking into the soft ground with each step, sucking his feet in and coating the feathering of long hairs about his hooves with mud and dead grass. He soon came to the mares, Rasta lying unconscious on the ground, the other mare barely touching her and speaking quietly to the mare, which was completely ineffective. "Move," He said to the mare, finally at Rasta's side, "You are doing nothing that way, merely being a living beast by her dying side." He snorted and shoved at Rasta with his head. "Get up," he commanded, "If you do not you will simply die here on the forest floor. Get your stubborn, ungrateful, stupid ass up and move!" he shouted at her, attempting to wake up the golden, palomino mare, shock her back into consciousness.
--behind the post-- 600 words-psht, no, what are you talking about, I didn't do that on purpose... No muse. STONY SCATH FTW!
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Post by aPPY on Jun 14, 2011 20:19:39 GMT -5
adalie!the playful one » Adalie pushed more forcefully but Rasta wouldn't respond. She turned at the sound of someone else walking toward them in the mud. Seeing that it was Scathashoun she ignored him and turned back to Rasta. "Move," he said, "You are doing nothing that way, merely being a living beast by her dying side." She snorted as he moved next to Rasta and shoved her in attempt to wake her. "Get up," he commanded, "If you do not you will simply die here on the forest floor. Get your stubborn, ungrateful, stupid ass up and move!"
» Adalie then stood on her hind legs and pushed his shoulder with her hooves. She then stepped closer to Rasta but kept her eyes trained on Scathashoun. "I think she made it clear that you are not wanted."
word count » 134
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Post by Abba on Jun 14, 2011 20:34:30 GMT -5
Resounding Memories;;RastaWe learned to live and then our freedom came to an end, we have to break down this wall Rasta's body stirred, the tiny amounts of rain slipping through the trees and pounding themselves against her body. She had been shoved multiple times. She could hear every single word, though she didn't really feel like moving so she hadn't gotten up as of yet. If anything, Adalie's voice had soothed her, made her think that Scathashoun was gone. But, of course, he only reappeared again. And when he shoved her so hard her back rammed into the tree again, causing more scraps to her thin pelt, and now the blood began to run freely from her skin, the pain forcing her to wake up. She tried to stand, still completely disoriented with the whole place and just able to make out the tree beside her. The tree that had injured her so many times. "I am no ungrateful, and stupid ass." she hissed back at him. Her attempts at standing failed though, no matter how hard she tried, and she continually fell back onto her stomach, one tear slipping out of her eye, though it mingled immediately with the water that was beginning to flood this forest floor. How she wished Panic was here. She had a hate for this stag, but she was uncertain if he should actually stay. Silently, she allowed her ears to stay forwards and she stopped pinning them and lashing out at this stag. She figured by now that she had injured him enough, at least for the day. Right now, she couldn't even stand, and she doubted that her weight could be held up by another mare. It seemed her only option might be Scathashoun, and it might not be to her liking but she would deal. "You realize, if you hadn't been so blunt earlier, I might actually deal with your presence, or enjoy your company." she chided, giving up on standing as it was causing her more pain then good and allowing her head to drop, holding back the fear in her voice as she lay there, the thunder crashing once again.
----------Behind the post---------- . 366 words . Done while listening to the Rock station on Music Choice . Mad Rasta FTW [/size]
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Post by Black Thorns on Jun 14, 2011 21:05:23 GMT -5
Scath's first emotion was guilt, guilt over the entire encounter; oh, he simply wanted to start again, repeat that day, come running into the forest and greet the mare how he would if he was controlled and calm, instead of wildly lustful and then hard, cold, and cruel. He could, of course, apologize for his actions, beg for forgiveness... but that was not scathashoun, that would be another horse, one who had the decency to do so. However, today was not his day, today was a horrible, horrible day of his life that he wished never could have happened. He felt horrible for his last push, knocking the delicate mare into the tree, scraping up her golden back. He wished he hadn't hurt her so, and that he could repair what had happened. However, Scath shoved these emotions away, replacing them with the cold, cruel exterior he favored as of now. The damage had been done; he could no longer repair his mistakes, only go uphill or plunge deeper into his destruction of any slight feelings that Rasta may have felt for Scathashoun. He, of course, chose the second option; this did not only harm her, but it cut his heart into tiny pieces, ripping it like a slip of paper. It tore him apart, as he felt he deserved; he did not care for the pain of others as he tried to cause pain to himself. "Yes, you are," Scathashoun replied curtly, "In your delirium I merely tried to comfort you in the only way you could have been comforted; had I told you of who was and who you were around it would have only made the situation worse. You would not have cooperated had you still been delirious when you got up from persuasion out of the storm, you would not do anything but, most likely, whine for your precious Panic. Who the hell is this Panic, anyways? Yet when you came to, instead of simply realizing that, yes, I had done what I could to try and help you, you instead lash out at me and cause my number of wounds to become greater," he spat, "and that, of course, would be why you are ungrateful. You were ungrateful of any aid I attempted, shoving me away and harming me as repayment. Now, why are you stupid? Instead of attempting to re-orientate yourself by using this mare-" he pointed his muzzle at the other mare quickly before looking back at Rasta- "or that other stag or help, you dash off into the forest with no real sense of your surroundings, only succeeding in injuring yourself and nearly dying. Now, here you are; weak, unable to stand, and unwilling to even ask for the slightest bit of help. You, dear, are an incredibly stubborn, ungrateful, and stupid ass." He shook his mane quickly in annoyance. All she could do right now was either harm him, harm herself, or whine and moan about her stupid Panic. Who WAS he, anyways? To his surprise, the mare unpinned her ears back. Perhaps, in her injured state, she was too tired to fight with him. He, too, was tired of fighting; however, he wouldn't allow his feelings for her to interfere with whatever he needed to do. "Yes, Rasta, I am very well aware of that. Now, would you like some help getting up?"
--behind the post- 574 words I think I forgot something. :/ Muse is still on vacation
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Post by Abba on Jun 14, 2011 21:49:31 GMT -5
Resounding Memories;;RastaI need to pack it in I can't pull your heart together with just my voice alone Rasta's whole body shuddered as he spoke. That wasn't true she really wasn't like that. She just, she didn't trust anyone anymore. Had he not approached her like that, she might have given him a chance. She dropped her head, her ears lulling to the side in a sad fashion as her forelock fell over her face, a few tears emerging. He really was a stone-cold brute who could care less for the world. But, she needed to get up. Carefully, she tried once more, before collapsing. She paused, taking everything in, but when he landed on Panic, speaking of him in such a horrible manner she really broke down, her body giving one tiny heave as she let out a sob. "Panic was my mate. Before the war started. The war that ended five years ago. We seperated lands up. This is mine. I am the Alpha that was supposed to watch over these lands. And I am obviously failing if I can't even take care of myself." she explained, her true age beginning to show through. She may look four, but she really was much older, and have lived for much a longer period of time then most would expect. She paused, taking in a deep breath, that pained her because it pulled at her back. "I didn't rely on them because I was beginning to be able to feel the world again. I could make things out. It was only when the thunder crashed again that I wouldn't be able to make it. I knew there was a cave not far out. I just... slid before I could get there, and then it crashed." she snorted once, her ears still forwards, "I'm sorry you think so badly of me, but I can only return the favor to you, you horrible, insensitive, mannerless brute." she managed to spit at him before her eyes fell shut again, weakness taking over. "And yes, help up would be wonderful..." she added, her whole body now sore and really painful.
----------Behind the post---------- . 365 words . Done while watching the 3rd season opener of Hawthorne . I feel really bad for replying before Lori. XD [/size]
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