!! Miss Murder

[Abba]

Resounding Memories^;;Rasta

Here I sit alone
It was my fault, I know. If I was you I wouldn't take me back

Rasta's ears perked up as she felt his maw against hers slowly tracing the lines of her face. Something about this comforted the mare in a way she hadnt felt in quite a long time. She let out a breath of content, titlting her head around and gently lipping at the stags neck in response as he stood there. But she could feel his body slidding down hers, afraid to lose his touch she allowed herself to back up with him, cocking her head alightly in confusion maybe the rain was beginning to hit him so they needed to move deeper. Yes. Thats what it was. They needed to stay out of the rain gently she swished her tail, bringing her head around still trying to reach his face and just managing it as she stretched. She allowed her maw to follow his cheek, lipping it happily in comfort. When she felt her tail strike his shoulder she stopped her ears still perked up, though in confusion this time. She snorted once feeling his maw against her hindquarters and she could no longer reach him. Emmitting a sigh of content she allowed her maw to drop down, just grazing the cold floor of this cave. But it immediately shot up when she felt his teeth against her pelt. That was not very soothing in fact she had nearly kicked him in the jaw. It was at that moment she realized he was acting upon testosterone and nothing more. Her ears pinned flat back against her head as she reached back attempting to nip at him. She heard him speak I love you, Rasta and her heart sunk. Because at that moment she was unsure if she felt the same for him. Anothed roll of thunder clashed shaking the cave worse than the ground outside. And since she didnt feel him.anymore she nearly collapsed to the ground. But she regained her balance just in time feel the heat of his body pressing against her back. Struggling to get free she nipped out at him, but she couldnt move anything without putting a strain on her back. "Scath...." she started to scream but was unable to finish his name.because she couldnt breathe too well under all of his weight. "Stop..." she whispered too low for anyone to recognize she could feel the penetration and the pushing. And she soon gave up on fighting. The minute he unmounted she snorted snapping out at his face immediately though she couldnt even lurch towards him. Another crash of thunder came through, this one worse than any of the previous ones throwing herself completely off balance and teetering directly into him. She fell to the ground, struggling to find her feet, any breath she had gathered back having been knocked out of her lungs the minute she hit the cold stone floor of the cave. "Scath..." she gasped, still unable to finish his name. "I... I dont want... A foal.... You didnt... Didnt ask...." she choked out, still fighting for air and unable to find her feet at all. "I dont love you. I was starting to like you. I was, but not right now. Not nearly as much as i had before. Im sorry..." she said, allowing her head to drop down to the freezing cold as she gave up on struggling. "but even though i may not like you right now... I suppose it is my fault... Just. Dont leave. I have no clue where I am. And... And in a way... You are tied to me now...."she finished before her eyes fell shut, ears unpinning. And her breathing slowing as she lay there. Too many things rattling. It was giving her a headache trying to figure everything out. And she desperately needed something stable, even though she wanted to chew him out woth every ounce of energy she had left in her. Instead, before she blocked out everything she said, "Dont leave..." And then she blocked out everything that wasnt clear to her, allowing her body to rest as she tried to wait out the storm, hoping he would stay.

[/blockquote]

--Behind the Post--
. 711 words
. Done on my phone
. o.o Scath is... strangely not dead. xDD
[/size]

[lady shady]

Bonaparte

As he splashed eagerly along, Bon noticed the stallion move suddenly into the cave, greeted by the swish of a pale yellow tail. He paused a second time, once again unsure of his intention to find company to weather out the storm. The very faint scent of a mare in heat drifted toward him, and he shook his head to clear it. He knew that this could not be possible; it wasn't the season for breeding. His nostrils flared, and he stood, slightly repulsed at the scent. Any other time, he might be excited by this prospect, but the scent reminded him of the friends he had so recently lost. That scent...they had always gone off, not quite themselves, accompanied by that maddening scent...

On top of that, he shied at the thought of meeting the larger stallion, who was almost sure to be possessive of his companion if it was indeed a mare, in heat or not. Normally, he wasn't so cautious, but that barely traceable scent raised his guard and ruffled his unsettled feelings.

Masking his misgivings with a new bounce in his step and pricked ears, Bon started forward again. He was almost at the entrance to the cave. As he drew closer, he heard murmuring from within, though he couldn't make out the words being exchanged. Not wanting to startle a stallion quite possibly on edge, Bon made his hoofbeats heavier and louder as he approached. Nickering a friendly greeting, he halted just outside the entrance to the cave and stood, his dark forelock hanging in his questioning and hopeful eyes.

[Black Thorns]

Scathashoun's face was caught in the mouth of the mare, slicing open, once again, his face. He had basically raped the mare; as this realization dawned on him his heart sank. It felt as if his entire body was made of lead; he could hardly move, save backing up and moving away from her. It had seemed like she wanted it; she had released her scent, it appeared, deliberately; and when he began to move down her body, she had reacted with pleasure and nuzzled him back. It wasn't her fault, no, as she seemed to believe while she spoke to him; it was his fault, his fault for hurting her and for possibly making her carry his foal, for making her have a child she did not want. He had been close; she had begun to like him, trust him, react to his touch happily, greedily wanting more; and now here he was, in the destruction of every last ounce of trust she possibly could have in him. He was a monster, there was no avoiding that; he had hurt and destroyed the more, he had crushed her and forced her into something she obviously was not ready for. He pushed himself further back, away from the mare, pulling his head down lower as the thunder crashed and rolled above the two. His stance was submissive, willing to let the mare do as she wished to him; to cut and chop him up as if he were a piece of wood, of grass. He wanted her to hurt him, wanted her to make him pay; he couldn't do it himself, he'd stop because it hurt. She had to, she had to cause him to hurt more than he had hurt her. She requested that he should stay with her; but how could he? How could he stay here, but to stay as she beat him to a bloody pulp beneath her? How could he treat her any less than he would a goddess, the immortal and divine being that she was? He was about to request that the mare cause him pain, but his words were cut short as a young stallion clopped his hooves at the cave's entrance. Why, oh why must he appear now? However, a thought sprung into his mind. He did not feel as if he should stay in the cave, but Rasta wante dhim there; perhaps he could stand out in the rain and the young one could take his place. The mare was blind; she should not be able to tell the difference, right?
He moved over to the young stag, breathing his words at a barely audible whisper into the young stag's ears. "She requests that one must stay with her... Will you do so, for me? I will be outside of the cave, still within sight. Simply take my place; stand where I stood and stay with her," he requested. Perhaps he had done more harm than good with this request; nevertheless, he surely was not fit to stay within that cave. His footsteps were near silent as he exited, the cold rain beginning to flood back onto his dark pelt, stinging his eyes.

--behind the post--
543 words
No muse
Bye bye Scath.
BAD SCATH. NO FORCEBREEDING. Now Rasta's preggers.

[lady shady]

Bonaparte

He backed a step or two as the larger stallion approached, wary of being greeted with a kick or bared teeth. He was caught off guard when the dark form appeared, seeming almost in pain, or in grief. Puzzled as he was, he caught from the stallion's tone a sense of nobility. He did not want to leave her alone, whoever she may be. Bon's heart warmed at the thought of meeting such a valiant fellow-creature. He had barely matured, and this stallion brought him back to the days of of his youth, not so long ago, it seemed, when he had encountered the old and noble warrior horse at the stream.

However, he was cautious about entering the cave. It was dark, and there was a chill in the air. And, here, that faint and maddening scent of a mare in heat was the strongest it had been. But, he wished to honor the stag's wishes and resolved to step inside. As the stag moved off, he laid his muzzle comfortingly on his withers without saying a word.

Moving quietly and slowly, he neared the back of the cave. As he drew closer, he could make out the figure of a light golden mare, almost his size, but looking, for the moment, considerably smaller, as if she had pulled into herself. He dared not greet her as he had the other stallion, he sensed that the slightest touch of his muzzle would startle her. Though he was cautious, he could feel a sense of happiness rising up in him again. He was amongst others. Good or bad, that was all that mattered. He had found others.

[Abba]

Resounding Memories^;;Rasta

A one night stand
and a photograph made its way to you, I took a chance

Rasta snorted, hearing the sound of the hooves as they entered the cave, clicking. A smaller horse, one maybe but a couple inches taller than her but not much. Who was this stag. And why was Scathashoun leaving. She had managed to hear the last part of his conversation with this stag, saying that he would be outside. This aggrivated her even more than what he had just done to her. As the other stag took Scath's spot she shakily tried to get onto her feet to another clash of thunder. Immediately, collapsing again. "You aren't Scathashoun." she wanted to hiss, but didn't have enough air to do so. Snorting once more she pushed her legs up, the thunder still partly rattling her, almost making her collapse. Except this time she managed to sort out her legs and stand without falling. She dropped her head to the cold ground, tapping it lightly and sending out her own vibrations to take in this stag. His scent definately not that of Scathashoun's. She snorted once before talking. "Scathashoun! Who is this?! You imbesile! Just because I am blind does not mean that I can't tell if you use another equine in your darn place!" she said almost screaching in annoyance at the stag who had just left her side. She pinned her ears in warning at this new one before sighing and unpinning them. "Can you help me out to him?" she asked, her voice soft, showing just how exhausted she really was. And because she couldn't see anything it wouldn't really work if she tried on her own.

[/blockquote]

------Behind the Post-------

. 290 words
. I'm still in shock that my post from my phone was 711 words. o.o
. She's pissed that he tried to switch places with another stag thinking she wouldn't notice. XDD
[/size]

[lady shady]

Bonaparte

Startled by the mare's reaction, he retreated a few steps and eyed the mare. She was blind? He hadn't noticed that until she announced that she was. "I am not. Whoever he may be." he answered in response to her agitated statement. However, he tried to ease her distress. He knew the feeling of being abandoned. Squeezing alongside her, he grimly noticed that for once, his small size would come in handy. The back of the cave was narrow, and it would be difficult for a larger horse to guide her.

"Put you muzzle on my withers and follow me out" he told her softly. He started out of the cave slowly, allowing the mare to get her balance. Hoping to put her more at ease, he introduced himself. "My name is Bonaparte" he stated simply. They were nearing the entrance to the cave now, and he could sense the mare's discomfort. Lightning lit up the sky, and he was forced to pause for a moment as his eyes readjusted. Hopefully that hadn't hit anything nearby...

As they reached the mouth of the cave, he stood, searching for the dark figure of the stag.

[Black Thorns]

Scathashoun's ears could just hear over the sound of water the mare he had, possibly, impregnated (This was still slightly shocking to him, as he was still growing used to the thought; however, it was a possibility, not entirely certain) rising up from her near-comatose state and steadying herself on the cave floor.
Shit.
He, in his stupidity, had forgotten how the mare's blindness affects her other senses; even if she couldn't SEE him, she could smell and feel that it was not him. His thoughts were confirmed as the mare screeched in annoyance at him. "Scathashoun! Who is this! You imbecile! Just because I am blind doesn't mean I can't tell if you use another equine in your darned place!" she managed to yell over the sound of the pouring rain. His ears flicked back, trying to block out the high-pitched voice. Get her angry, yes; she would hurt him then. Closing his eyes, he tried to imagine what it was like to be Rasta, unable to see the world around her. All he could rely on was the smells around him, the touches of the objects he was near, the sound of the world that he lived in, and the taste of the things he dared let his mouth touch. He then realized that the mare was more affected by the storm than he really thought she was; he couldn't tell much from his ears, as most of what he heard was the sounds of rushing water; the scents in the air, on the ground were almost completely destroyed and washed away by the rain, and the taste of the grass below him was filled with water. It seemed, now, that most of what she relied on was touch; without that touch, the feel of another equine, of the things around her, he was quite sure she would be lost within seconds. He opened his eyes and lifted his head, the sound and scent of two horses approaching him reaching his senses. Lighting exploded across the sky, striking a nearby oak and splitting it in two. A few seconds later, the thunder rolled, sure enough to disturb the mare's equilibrium and send her off balance; though, perhaps, that would be comforted by the small, young stag leading her. Bonaparte, he said, was his name; he could just barely hear the soft voice of the stag. This stallion seemed to be a submissive type, one who, if he was in a herd with another stallion, would not attempt to take over; if he did, he wouldn't succeed (most likely, anyways; for all he knew, that stag could be a little package of super strong, ninja-like skills) The two arrived at the mouth of the cave; Scathashoun whirled around, standing directly in front of the two.
"What are you doing out here?" He hissed, his voice quiet but most definitely loud enough for the blind mare to hear, "You should be inside; you need to rest and wait for this godforsaken storm to pass."

--behind the post--
519 words
no muse
FAILURE. epic failure on Scath's part. XD

[Abba]

Resounding Memories^;;Rasta

I hope that you don't mind
I'll make it up this time, is it too late to try?

Rasta snorted grumbled under her breath as the thunder roared. She almost doubled over, her feet prancing in spot as she pressed her body against the stag to get her footing again. Quietly, once resettled, she moved off of his side though, not enjoying close quarters too much at the moment. "Stupid storm..." she hissed, pinning her ears at the storm. When he gave her his name she returned with hers, "Rasta..." she murmered quietly to Bonaparte. She moved forwards once they were at the front of the cave. She could feel the rain against her pelt and she let go of the smaller stag, stepping out blindly into the storm. "Scathashoun..." she said, reaching out with her maw as she slowly picked up her hooves, unable to really make anything out. "Please... don't leave my side..." she snorted, feeling her stomach lurch. "I know you feel horrible. I could sense it in the way you moved out of that cave. You can't change it now. Please..." she didn't get to finish, a bolt of lighting broke yet another tree in half, this one cracking and falling down directly upon her. She screamed out in pain, her ears pinned as she tried to move her hindlegs to no avail. "Help..." she whispered, trying to wiggle free but failing.

[/blockquote]

------Behind the Post-------

. 241 words
. o.o switching to phone in like 10 minutes. Orr... after my physical therapy excersizes.
. Oh nooo! she's trapped. DRAMA
[/size]

[lady shady]

Bonaparte

As the mare suddenly screamed and crumpled to the ground beside him, Bon started back in fright, having been narrowly missed by the burning embers of the falling tree. He let out a loud whinny of fear, panic and adrenaline colliding inside his brain.

Moments later, he came back to horrible reality: Rasta, that must be who she was, had been pinned under the limbs of the blacked tree. His instincts told him to leave the mare and flee, but he caught sight of the dark stag as he was turning away. The image of the noble warrior horse flashed in his mind and he knew that he must stay.

Resolutely, he flung his small hard shoulder into the smoking pine. His small weight did not make much of a difference, and he worried that his attempt to move the tree might harm Rasta more than help her, but in his desperation, he had to try something.

He glanced at the larger stag, this must be Scath, he assumed, with a plea in his eyes for aid. Perhaps this stallion's strength combined with his own futile efforts would be enough to shift the tree into a position where Rasta could wriggle out? He hoped that they were not too late.

[/left]

[Black Thorns]

Rasta moved unsteadily off of the small stag's withers, reaching out for Scathashoun; his touch was one thing that he could give to try and help- though he, personally, believed that his touch in any way other than to help her steady herself in the storm would do far more harm than good. She wasn't strong enough to be out here; she wasn't well rested, balanced, or able to understand her surroundings. His initial reaction was worry to this; worry about how the mare may react to being caught in this storm. When she had been weaker and pressed against him she had fallen; even then she had been unsteady in her surroundings. This worry, however, increased to anger of a sort, an internal rage which he dared not express. She was supposed to stay out of the storm! All that she could do out here, really, was get herself hurt. She was foolish, foolish and incredibly stupid for venturing out into a storm where she had no idea of what was around her or where she was going; what was up, what was down, she knew nothing, could tell nothing about the world around her the moment that the thunder rolled across the sky, sending great shocking booms of sound to anyone listening. The mare was incredibly irritating at times, especially when she did things that endangered her or caused her to be at risk whenever she could. It seemed that the mare's personal mission was to unintentionally get herself killed, at least sometimes. "Scathashoun..." she murmured desperately, stretching out her maw towards him. The sight of her, so helpless and wanting for the comfort- or, at least, stability- of his touch seemed to cause his anger to evaporate into the stormy air- not completely, no, but enough that he wouldn't let her see his anger. "I'm right here, Rasta," he replied quietly, barely brushing his muzzle against her golden forehead, partly obscured by her flaxen, dripping wet forelock that clung to her forehead as if it were the sap from a pine tree, covering the wound she had received due to her dash out into the storming woodlands. His head pulled away quickly, not remaining for a moment longer than was necessary. He hoped, of course, that the whisper of a touch he had given her was enough to ground her again. He really, truly believed that touching her now would do far more harm than good; he could remember, before, he he had begun his slow, sensual descent down her luxurious golden body, the way she felt as she reacted positively to his touch, moving her maw against him as he nuzzled her face, her neck; the mare seemed to enjoy it, yes, until he reached her hindquarters; until he just barely pressed the front, flat of his teeth against her hindquarters. Then she didn't touch him, anymore; he figured she simply couldn't reach him anymore... She had wanted it, he swore she did, then; he hadn't known that she didn't until the damage was done. He couldn't go back and fix his mistakes; however, he could move forward and try to heal the wounds he had made. Of course there would be scars; scars that weren't always external, but scars within her soul, her mind, her heart. Those scars could always fade over time, just as the scars on his pelt, on her pelt, the scars on the skin of any other living being that walked these lands- the lands of Terra Septentrionales, the lands of Forma Silvestris, have- and will. Yet, as ever being with their own silver badge of courage, stupidity, foolishness, or an accident knew, these scars could only fade- never go away completely. He had caused these scars, these scars that could never disappear, these scars on her soul, and he would always feel remorse, regret for them. He had scarred her this day, this night; he had scarred her externally (Though not entirely by his hand; he supposed, of course, that he was to blame for her injuries today) and internally- though more so the latter than the former of the two options. His overwhelming amount of thoughts receded as the mare began to speak again, her pleading once again reaching his ears. How often, tonight, had she pleaded for him to stay? "Please... don't leave my side..." Hm, another tally mark to add to his "Number of Times Rasta Has Asked and Pleaded for Scathashoun to Stay With Her" tally chart. He had stayed with her, yes; he had been at the cave- not inside, no, but at the cave, well within reach had she really needed him. He had always been near her today, yet she still requested that he never leave. Did he really seem that fickle, that much of a fluttering bird that would never settle, never stay in one place? Did he truly seem to have that horrible of commitment issues? It seemed that she believed this; either that, or she seemed to have some type of fear of being left alone. How had it been, then, that the mare had spent even a month, a year alone, by herself, with no companion by her side, nobody to hear her voice or comfort her when she was afraid, nobody to lead her in the storms that arose? Did she do what she did now- stumble around helplessly, blindly through them, just waiting for some unexpected drop-off to kill her-, or did she simply lie there in the pouring rain, cold and miserable, unable to do anything to get out of the rain that fell so very steadily? The rain leaked onto his face, racing down his dark face, soaking and drenching his flaring nostrils before continuing down his face, collecting on his chin before dripping or running off. In the distance he could hear the roar of a raging river, pounded into by a swift and deadly waterfall... "I know you feel horrible. I could sense it in the way you moved out of the cave. You can't change it now." How could she know? How could she know of the regret and the intense amount of remorse that followed him now? Surely she had never felt anything like it, surely she couldn't understand. He had committed a heinous crime that he was sure she could never truely forgive him for. "Please-" Rasta continued, her voice bringing his attention back to the mare before him just as lighting once more struck a half-dead tree, catching the wooden object aflame as it began to fall. Stunned, he did nothing as the tree began its slow- gradually increasing speed-, deadly descent towards the earth. The mare was cut off from her words as the dead, fallen, and flaming tree struck her back. The tree wasn't halted by the mare in its way, no; it simply continued on to the wet ground, bring the mare down with it. The tree, luckily, did not stay on fire for very long, no, it was turned into blackened charcoal that smoked steadily. The grey smoke filled the air, curling and winding dark fingers beginning to prod at his eyes, stringing them and causing them to fill with tears to flush out the ashes in the smoke that had carried to his dark eyes. "Help! she called out desperately, unable to move from the position she was trapped in. She couldn't wiggle free, no, so there she- and the possible foal- sat, being crushed underneath the weight of the tree. He had to work quickly, or the mare and his foal would soon be dead underneath the godforsaken pile of lumber on top of them. The stress on her back would build, the baby would be crushed underneath her, effectively killing it, and her spine would eventually snap if he didn't get that tree off of the mare. But how could he? His strength along couldn't pull an entire tree of this size off of her, not without somehow tying the tree to him. He could only push at it, and he couldn't do much to help with that if all he could do was press his body weight against the thing. He needed help, but the only help he could find available to him at the moment was the young stag. The stag, unlike Scathashoun who was trying to devise a plan to help free the mare, had rushed in immediately to try and fling himself against the massive trunk. The smaller stag didn't do much alone, but perhaps with his help the two of the horses could move the tree into a position that the mare could wriggle out from underneath the burned, black lump. He moved quickly over to the smoking tree, trying to ignore the stinging of his eyes and cuts as he began to push against the tree. The bark first crumbled against his weight, before growing sharp and scraping at his pelt. However, instead of shying away, he pushed harder into the tree. The pain was good, =he guessed, a form of repayment for what he had done to her. He had hurt her; now he must be hurt in an attempt to help her. The tree began to give underneath the force that the two exerted, shifting further down Rasta's back, sure to be scraped after this. "I'm....sorry...Rasta..." he gasped out, "Need...too...get...off...you." The tree finally was shoeved off of Rasta, hitting the forest floor with a thud! that was surely loud enough to hear for quite a ways. With the amount of force and weight that was required to push the tree off and away from the mare that carried his possible baby he could only wonder what harm had come to the baby that had the possibility of residing within the stomach of the mare lying on the ground before him, her back crisscrossed with scratches, ash, dirt, and blood from the tree next to her. He was concerned not only for her, but for the baby as well. He knew that mares had gotten miscarriages from this type of thing, from injuries or extreme force to their bellies. He knew Rasta would recover; an immortal couldn't die from mortal things such as injuries, could they? Doubt began to tickle darkly in the back of his mind. What is she doesn't make it? it whispered to him, creeping into his thoughts, What if she dies here, with the last memory of you not one of a good time, but of you, on her, in her, forcing her to have a foal she never wanted...? His hope was that the mare before him could survive this, these mortal wounds- he guessed he had been acting as if she was a mortal horse, one who died of blood loss, of a bad cold, during birth... However, Rasta was not a mortal horse; she was a special horse, one who wouldn't die from sickness... but did they die from wounds? Would they die if they were injured badly enough? He didn't want to find out; the answer could, quite possibly, frighten him even ore than the sight of her lying on the ground, broken, bloody and dirty did. He couldn't help but believe that this was his fault, that he was the reason that she was hurt like this; if he had never left the cave, god, if he had never wandered off so far, if he had never approached her so obnoxiously and hound-like at their first meeting; if he had never met her at all... If he had never met her she wouldn't be hurt like this, she wouldn't be carrying a foal she had no wish for, and she certainly wouldn't have these issues. Yes, it was his fault that she was hurt, and his fault alone. All he could do was try to never hurt her again; he couldn't leave, no, because she would follow him in her weak state- all he could do was try to get her to get back inside of the cave, back away from harm. As he stood contemplating, the roar of the rushing river seemed to grow ever louder in his ears...

--behind the post--
2091 words. o.o
This is only because Abba challenged me to a 700 word post. and, well, you know me...
Little bit o' muse. I think I just blabbered on randomly for most of it. XD
Done while reading Abba's wondrous commentary. xD I would've gone longer, but she wanted me to post.