Post by && w e s s on Jun 18, 2008 20:08:28 GMT -5
[/color]A N D R O L L Y O U R E Y E S
---[/center]
It had never seemed fair to Wesson that everyone in his life, despite how short said life had beem, was always making decisions for him. His mother first, then the small band he was part of later. Made fun of for his pelt color - hah! He'd pay anything to see the looks on those foolish stallions' faces now. The little colt they once picked on, grown into this handsome brute and now, finally, making a claim on a terra of his own. To start a life of his own. The mutt stag couldn't have been happier if you fed him sugar cubes; of which he hadn't yet had the likes of tasting. Black was the new piebald if he had anything to say on the matter, but his coat was his, whether he liked it or not. Tossing the rag of mane to the side, flowing and untangled as any friesian, even part, should have it, his flowing trot became blocky and he slowed to a walk. The sun, unforgiving in these warm months, was shaded for the moment by a film of thin clouds and a single blue and single black optic scanned the terra laid out before him like a feast before a king. Oh, and what a king he was.
The rolling hills, green and lush after the rains from a few days before, spread out like a painted canvas; dotted lightly in a blanket of blossoming flowers. Colors like carmine, gold, and cyan, those that pleasure the eye of any onlooker, and the sweet smell of pollen and freshness sprung even the deadest of senses to life. A ways off he could just hear the slight rushing of a river. This is where the slate black stag knew he could make himself comfortable. He knew he could find a home amongst these apple trees which dotted the land. Lifting a hock, he stepped forward again, the mound of green he was perched atop of sloping downwards as the grass beneath his heavy hocks became taller and reached upwards towards his ankles. The flowers beneath his masculine figure open with faces turned expectantly towards the sun, tuned for the chance of it's movement, given it made an unexpected turn. It was times like these that the brute remembers that equines were not the only lives species to cover the fertile lands which he walked. It had been so long since he had seen the danger of man or wolf to think otherwise.
Another flare of nares and the simple lack of smell proved to be enough for him to know this land was unmarked. Unmarred by the likes of a rival stallion, given he be light or otherwise. Tail swished lightly to rid himself the annoyance of flies and harks swivelled backwards in a lazy fashion, best for radiating heat atop his cranium. The muscles lining his structured shoulders rippled lightly to support the heavy frame as they stretched and contracted to form the simple movements necessary for walking. Soft as silk pelt, dyed on the purest of blacks and darker forming a thin layer over said muscles as they ceased to move, along with the figure they supported. Head lifted high, harks suddenly intent on the world around him, the horizons miles away on each side. A light snort and he shifted, feet gathering together as his front pillars parted with the earth to slash at the air around himself and his deep, thundering call rang out amongst the heavens. A call that screamed to the gods of which he did not believe, "my claim lies here, oh beasts of burden."
---
[/color][/size]A T M E N O M O R E[/center][/color][/blockquote][/blockquote]
