Post by Incubus~Slew on Jun 6, 2006 12:53:00 GMT -5
So Long Good Night
There was an unearthly silence in the forest. Morning had just crept into the lands; fractures of light slipping in-between the trees to create pools of soft gold on the mossy floors; making the dense area seem like it had appeared out of a fairy-tale. It may have been true if one could hear the soft sound of birds tweeting and calling out to each other, but in reality, the forest was still. Some would class it as hauntingly silent; as if the trees and the animals that remained hidden to the world were all dead.
But, enough about the forest! We shall move swiftly on, travelling towards the softest of sounds that could barely be heard. Beside a running stream stood a horse – no taller than sixteen, maybe seventeen hands, and a dark grey in colour no ebony; lighter patches of stone splashed all over its body. The horse had a slender build, delicate legs with a rather large torso and a head that some would class as having ‘that intelligent look,’ about it.
The lack of evident colour on the horse – a mixture of greys for its body and a deep, dark hued mane that cascaded down the equine’s neck, resting in a slanted position that ended up just above his shoulder; and a long-yet-thick, night-coloured tail that hung limply and ended just before its hocks - it all made the beast appear rather… strange, compared to its colourful surroundings. Rich greens and flowery tints burst out from every angle, and yet, here was this ‘colourless,’ horse, right in the middle of it all.
The beast appeared to be calm, its hazel eyes glancing about its surroundings with relative interest, the horse’s breathing normal and soft. It was a calm beast, make no mistake, but its personality was altogether very-much different. A fire burned deep within the horse’s being, moulded by a general dislike of any horse that showed disrespect towards itself – and some would go so far as to say that the horse either possessed a heart of stone, or no heart at all. His eyes were cold, lacking any emotion at all; dull with not an inch of light in them, almost as if he was dead. For all most cared, he was dead – as they said, having no heart could do that to someone.
And the fact that he didn’t move, only breathed (and who was to know if that was actual breathing and not faked?) could confirm one’s suspicions if they truly thought he was a vessel for the dead. The horse had heard such rumours – and he had laughed at them. Oh, such nonsense, he would tell himself. Such utter nonsense! He was a fearless beast, but at the sudden flight of a bird in nearby trees, the horse startled and was forced into movement by an instinct of running when, ironically, scared.
His legs stretched out beneath his slender build; water splashing up his sides as he moved through the brook, inhaling deeply as his hooves hit solid ground again; a dull ‘thud,’ erupting as he moved. The horse was, indeed, a graceful mover – there was no denying that. He had the speed of a Thoroughbred and the moves of a lipper; clues to his heritage, yet his personality had neither come from his sire or his dam. Where he inherited his cold demeanour was a mystery.
He ran beautifully, smoothly with immense speed; winding through the trees until he broke from them and into a glade that was shaped remarkably like a shark’s tooth. Without a second thought, the grey beast flung his body into the air, resting on his hind-legs; his fore-hooves attacking the sky viciously; something similar to a banshee’s scream ripping forth from his vocals, before he landed with a thud on the topography.
Foggy Forest now belonged to Incubus, whether other horses liked it or not.
So Long Not Good Night
There was an unearthly silence in the forest. Morning had just crept into the lands; fractures of light slipping in-between the trees to create pools of soft gold on the mossy floors; making the dense area seem like it had appeared out of a fairy-tale. It may have been true if one could hear the soft sound of birds tweeting and calling out to each other, but in reality, the forest was still. Some would class it as hauntingly silent; as if the trees and the animals that remained hidden to the world were all dead.
But, enough about the forest! We shall move swiftly on, travelling towards the softest of sounds that could barely be heard. Beside a running stream stood a horse – no taller than sixteen, maybe seventeen hands, and a dark grey in colour no ebony; lighter patches of stone splashed all over its body. The horse had a slender build, delicate legs with a rather large torso and a head that some would class as having ‘that intelligent look,’ about it.
The lack of evident colour on the horse – a mixture of greys for its body and a deep, dark hued mane that cascaded down the equine’s neck, resting in a slanted position that ended up just above his shoulder; and a long-yet-thick, night-coloured tail that hung limply and ended just before its hocks - it all made the beast appear rather… strange, compared to its colourful surroundings. Rich greens and flowery tints burst out from every angle, and yet, here was this ‘colourless,’ horse, right in the middle of it all.
The beast appeared to be calm, its hazel eyes glancing about its surroundings with relative interest, the horse’s breathing normal and soft. It was a calm beast, make no mistake, but its personality was altogether very-much different. A fire burned deep within the horse’s being, moulded by a general dislike of any horse that showed disrespect towards itself – and some would go so far as to say that the horse either possessed a heart of stone, or no heart at all. His eyes were cold, lacking any emotion at all; dull with not an inch of light in them, almost as if he was dead. For all most cared, he was dead – as they said, having no heart could do that to someone.
And the fact that he didn’t move, only breathed (and who was to know if that was actual breathing and not faked?) could confirm one’s suspicions if they truly thought he was a vessel for the dead. The horse had heard such rumours – and he had laughed at them. Oh, such nonsense, he would tell himself. Such utter nonsense! He was a fearless beast, but at the sudden flight of a bird in nearby trees, the horse startled and was forced into movement by an instinct of running when, ironically, scared.
His legs stretched out beneath his slender build; water splashing up his sides as he moved through the brook, inhaling deeply as his hooves hit solid ground again; a dull ‘thud,’ erupting as he moved. The horse was, indeed, a graceful mover – there was no denying that. He had the speed of a Thoroughbred and the moves of a lipper; clues to his heritage, yet his personality had neither come from his sire or his dam. Where he inherited his cold demeanour was a mystery.
He ran beautifully, smoothly with immense speed; winding through the trees until he broke from them and into a glade that was shaped remarkably like a shark’s tooth. Without a second thought, the grey beast flung his body into the air, resting on his hind-legs; his fore-hooves attacking the sky viciously; something similar to a banshee’s scream ripping forth from his vocals, before he landed with a thud on the topography.
Foggy Forest now belonged to Incubus, whether other horses liked it or not.
So Long Not Good Night
