Post by Incubus~Slew on Jun 6, 2006 13:08:44 GMT -5
So Long Good Night
Seeing all these lighthearted and air headed lights skipping about I began to think that Assia was running out of bad girls. Hell I was even beginning to miss the sight of dirty sluts and pathetic wastes of mares calling them selves’ dark. What really made a horse dark though? Knowing that we’re scum of the earth and that Jesus would truly rather look away from us than forgive us? Or simply because we’re willing to be dirty pigs with no morals and few standards? The lights are so high strung on manners and what not. They’d rather let the good emotions control their judgment rather than their brain. We all have one, why don’t we all use it? You want something? Work for it. Don’t confess love for it, that’s just queer in my book. You want to show someone you want something? Fight. Fighting’s been solving problems for decades. Wars over religion, mass of land in ones power, how many followers they have, who’s the bride(s) on their side. Sadly I’d seen as much willing to fight in this land as I’d seen dark mares. Truly quite pitiful if you ask me. The stallions of the dark allegiance like to call themselves the devils but wouldn’t the devil rather spill blood? Sure, he’s a manipulative sort of creature willing to play trickery games, but he always spills blood. Our ‘devils’ here would rather play their games and run off. What pitiful creatures. Might as well keep behind mother’s skirt their whole life. Well the dirty boy has come to town and he’s ready to stir up a mass amount of trouble in every area of the land. He’s got plenty of will and plenty of ways, all he’s missing is a crew. You don’t see captains of pirate ships going out to see without their crews do you? Or leaders of gangs going to a fight without their gang members. The church is like that too. The pastor always has his congregation with him. I know being a lone ranger is fun and all but I’d at least want to find a single partner to start off on a few escapades. I suppose that’s what led me here to the Claiming Creek. I’m simply in search of some Bonnie and Clydes to come along for the ride.
I’ll admit that I’d prayed for witches to be gathering in these lands like at black masses. Unfortunately I’d found very little mares or stallions of either alignment gathering here. Were there now more leads than there were loners? This only lead me back to deciding I’d need to buddy buddy with a herd mare and convert her to my herd. I wonder how hard that would be. How faithful and truthful were mares really? Would they leave if something better were for offer? Or would they stick around claiming a false devotion and adoration for a stallion not even willing to take a single glance at the female even during sex? That’s one disappointing type of stallion. Damn pigs. They claim mares and totally forget about them. Those neglected mares really should just leave. What keeps them around I haven’t a single clue. Perhaps its fright of being alone again. Then again, so many claims to hate company or crowds. Then you put a mare with a bachelor of importance and they’re all for chit chats. Mares were as equal pigs as stallions were. The world truly is going to the gutter, and not the one I’m livin’ in either. Pity. I suppose I’ll have to play the part of It (the clown, Pennywise) and just start pulling them down the drainers and into my lair. It is rather cozy down here. A few dead bodies floating around like balloons, but no scum and muck like the gutters you’re all headed for.
Now usually I was in quite a fair mood, willing to play games and fool around. But my mood was beginning to sour on multiple accounts. Being the new guy isn’t always easy. I’m more used to fending for myself than settling down into a terrain than trying to find my place in it. Well so far I’d been having minor difficulties that only built up into one huge muck of chewed bubblegum, hidden under the desk. Every day was a gamble for good luck or bad now. Of course I was rolling for good luck, but you never know what ya got until the dice stopped rolling. Well mine had just been thrown and only time could tell when it would land. My rusted vanilla coat full of blood stains and dirt clumps of a true wild brute covered iron built muscles from battles and journeys. I actually went around and did poop rather than some stallions that only truly did any part until springtime came. Now I’m not saying all stallions were like this, but very many were. Mud splattered face lay close to the emerald blades, lipping at the sprinkled on grass. Rain washed away the dirt and tangles in my choppy locks, plastering them to my rugged coat. Forelock lay directly on my face, a few strands threatening to go over my eyes. With a snort I raised my head, lids partly closed to keep the rain from hitting my eyeballs. I did catch something other than the wind dancing trees though. For you never saw herd members out recruiting. I continued to gaze , turning my head as I began to follow then, watching as nothing was around to be claimed.
[glow=red,2,300]"Wakey, wakey, loners, I'm here to claim you."[/glow]
I suppose by my rough tone of voice and choice of words this wasn’t going to be too high-strung and formal. Well that’s good, right? You don’t want to be put to sleep by company you want to be alive. Of course I can offer you a sheltered sleep, but only if you are willing of course. But why don’t we get your eyes at least open and see about something of an introduction.
[glow=red,2,300]"Come to me, I be your next lead."[/glow]
Tones are drawled lazily once more, a small, mischievous grin cascaded over my velvet kissers. Sure, I wasn’t too mannered either. But some of the brutes out here man handled everything they touched. I was rough, yes, but the meaning wasn’t always to hurt. Would you rather be woken by a knock to the head anyways? I highly doubted it.
So Long Not Good Night
Seeing all these lighthearted and air headed lights skipping about I began to think that Assia was running out of bad girls. Hell I was even beginning to miss the sight of dirty sluts and pathetic wastes of mares calling them selves’ dark. What really made a horse dark though? Knowing that we’re scum of the earth and that Jesus would truly rather look away from us than forgive us? Or simply because we’re willing to be dirty pigs with no morals and few standards? The lights are so high strung on manners and what not. They’d rather let the good emotions control their judgment rather than their brain. We all have one, why don’t we all use it? You want something? Work for it. Don’t confess love for it, that’s just queer in my book. You want to show someone you want something? Fight. Fighting’s been solving problems for decades. Wars over religion, mass of land in ones power, how many followers they have, who’s the bride(s) on their side. Sadly I’d seen as much willing to fight in this land as I’d seen dark mares. Truly quite pitiful if you ask me. The stallions of the dark allegiance like to call themselves the devils but wouldn’t the devil rather spill blood? Sure, he’s a manipulative sort of creature willing to play trickery games, but he always spills blood. Our ‘devils’ here would rather play their games and run off. What pitiful creatures. Might as well keep behind mother’s skirt their whole life. Well the dirty boy has come to town and he’s ready to stir up a mass amount of trouble in every area of the land. He’s got plenty of will and plenty of ways, all he’s missing is a crew. You don’t see captains of pirate ships going out to see without their crews do you? Or leaders of gangs going to a fight without their gang members. The church is like that too. The pastor always has his congregation with him. I know being a lone ranger is fun and all but I’d at least want to find a single partner to start off on a few escapades. I suppose that’s what led me here to the Claiming Creek. I’m simply in search of some Bonnie and Clydes to come along for the ride.
I’ll admit that I’d prayed for witches to be gathering in these lands like at black masses. Unfortunately I’d found very little mares or stallions of either alignment gathering here. Were there now more leads than there were loners? This only lead me back to deciding I’d need to buddy buddy with a herd mare and convert her to my herd. I wonder how hard that would be. How faithful and truthful were mares really? Would they leave if something better were for offer? Or would they stick around claiming a false devotion and adoration for a stallion not even willing to take a single glance at the female even during sex? That’s one disappointing type of stallion. Damn pigs. They claim mares and totally forget about them. Those neglected mares really should just leave. What keeps them around I haven’t a single clue. Perhaps its fright of being alone again. Then again, so many claims to hate company or crowds. Then you put a mare with a bachelor of importance and they’re all for chit chats. Mares were as equal pigs as stallions were. The world truly is going to the gutter, and not the one I’m livin’ in either. Pity. I suppose I’ll have to play the part of It (the clown, Pennywise) and just start pulling them down the drainers and into my lair. It is rather cozy down here. A few dead bodies floating around like balloons, but no scum and muck like the gutters you’re all headed for.
Now usually I was in quite a fair mood, willing to play games and fool around. But my mood was beginning to sour on multiple accounts. Being the new guy isn’t always easy. I’m more used to fending for myself than settling down into a terrain than trying to find my place in it. Well so far I’d been having minor difficulties that only built up into one huge muck of chewed bubblegum, hidden under the desk. Every day was a gamble for good luck or bad now. Of course I was rolling for good luck, but you never know what ya got until the dice stopped rolling. Well mine had just been thrown and only time could tell when it would land. My rusted vanilla coat full of blood stains and dirt clumps of a true wild brute covered iron built muscles from battles and journeys. I actually went around and did poop rather than some stallions that only truly did any part until springtime came. Now I’m not saying all stallions were like this, but very many were. Mud splattered face lay close to the emerald blades, lipping at the sprinkled on grass. Rain washed away the dirt and tangles in my choppy locks, plastering them to my rugged coat. Forelock lay directly on my face, a few strands threatening to go over my eyes. With a snort I raised my head, lids partly closed to keep the rain from hitting my eyeballs. I did catch something other than the wind dancing trees though. For you never saw herd members out recruiting. I continued to gaze , turning my head as I began to follow then, watching as nothing was around to be claimed.
[glow=red,2,300]"Wakey, wakey, loners, I'm here to claim you."[/glow]
I suppose by my rough tone of voice and choice of words this wasn’t going to be too high-strung and formal. Well that’s good, right? You don’t want to be put to sleep by company you want to be alive. Of course I can offer you a sheltered sleep, but only if you are willing of course. But why don’t we get your eyes at least open and see about something of an introduction.
[glow=red,2,300]"Come to me, I be your next lead."[/glow]
Tones are drawled lazily once more, a small, mischievous grin cascaded over my velvet kissers. Sure, I wasn’t too mannered either. But some of the brutes out here man handled everything they touched. I was rough, yes, but the meaning wasn’t always to hurt. Would you rather be woken by a knock to the head anyways? I highly doubted it.
So Long Not Good Night
