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Post by cici on Mar 14, 2013 19:39:29 GMT -6
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Thoughts
"Speech"
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[/b] His deep breaths overtook the mid-morning atmosphere, although to some this wasn't exactly considered mid-morning seeing as it was still quite early in the day, though to this actively territorial bull, it was merely time being wasted. He observed these lands with regal attention. A stag that was a warrior of the ages and who hardly allowed those around him, let alone the land itself to get out of hand. Silver curls of mist took flight from his deep nostrils into the airwaves, a deep snort flattened the bulls great diaphragm, a visible and audible exhale left his great lungs as a healthy, deep inhale took place of the empty space within. Optics of a dark chocolate radiated over the lands, his deep, wide brows remaining stagnant over them as he looked up. The regal stag was somewhat taken aback by the absence of others that he had seen in the area so far. A brute of impressive size and with energy building up as the days waned away behind him, he wanted nothing more than to spar, and unfortunately for the next victim, an unwelcome attack was somewhat imminent, nothing personal to them. Another great sigh escaped the bull. Standing tall within the dim light of the meadow he slowly allowed his great steps to continue forward, his elegant stance now put into motion, such grace and silence trailed behind the bull, as if he left no trace of where he had been on these lands. Another hefty snort escaped his nostrils, this time he optics remaining keen on his surroundings, small silver clouds continuing to circle his great skull, a stoic look upon his long, slender visage, a drip of slick liquid dripped from his wide muzzle. He had yet to bugle his immediate association into the lands, and so for now he kept fairly quiet, his neck growing sore of staying upright as he observed his surroundings, and so he allowed his great skull to lower, his neck staying parallel to his wide-set shoulder, great steps hardly jostling the grasses beneath him as he continued forward and into the open, the boldness about the bull was a presence unlike any other. W O R D C O U N T | 364 T A G S | AW M O O D | Alert, Assertive, Slightly Restless [/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/color][/td][/tr][tr][td]  [/td][/tr][/table][/center] |
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Post by Z E N I T H on Mar 14, 2013 22:03:14 GMT -6
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[/i][/b] ✾[/color][/font] LOOK INTO MY EYES IT'S WHERE MY DEMONS HIDE[/size][/center]
she picked her way across the planes of the meadow, stalwarts rolling minutely, draped under a hide blended with hues of cream upon her back and sides before smearing into russets and hints of bronze. earthen eyes of serene hue peered from this fire-smudged set of features, mood defined by a set jaw and said optics slitted by lowered brows. her gait was tense with what could either be wariness or frustration or some other negative emotion, and the rest of her countenance was warped into a frown. her cloven hooves came down with more weight than required, crushing many a sprig of greenery below them.
it took a moment for her to spy the brute of a species that seemed to match her own, but in the same amount of time to took for her to absorb his presence, she mirrored his stance, holding her body with regal stature, shaking away the mid-morning dew that had collected on her pelt in a spray that shone very slightly in the ascending sun. nyctalgia softened the blows of her daggers against the ground, shoulders rolling to allow for a more leisurely and nonchalant gait. they were on conflicting paths, with their presences bound to meet if even one continued on in this direction, so she paused, lifting her chin and awaiting his arrival should he deem it necessary to further approach her. they were in close enough proximity to allow for precise hearing, but still with good distance between them.
she could feel something that was odd about him, though she couldn't quite pinpoint it. his presence made her feel insignificant, and she hated it with every last fiber of her being. she tensed, head lowering to glare at him from under lowered brows, one hoof lunging outwards to ravage the ground with an audible strike and then a scrape inward, the latter motion accented by the sound of grass being ripped from its roots. oh, how she wished she bore a set of antlers to tip toward him and ward him away, for nyctalgia had no plans of being or feeling insignificant today. she considered barraging him with a harsh set of words, but then decided otherwise. no, she snorted within the confines of her mind--the only thing that was truly her own at times. he doesn't deserve to hear what i have to say, the brute. was her hate undeserved? maybe. did she care? hell no.
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