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Post by Frenzi™ on Nov 10, 2008 19:40:59 GMT -5
As soon as the cream stools stabbed through the boundaries into next land, the scent was assalting. The mixture of Light, Dark and Neutral all resided in these lands, and the scent was terrible to the new-coming mare. Her regal neck arched and matching tassels folded lightly over her nape as she strode through the lands, giving a snort or two to rid her nares of the rancid stench of the Light trash. The mare seemed to float over the lands as she tried to touch the lands as little as possible, and with her luck and beauty, she wouldn't be here for long. An annoyed breath of air sped through her maw as golden orbs looked around. No others in sight, good.
Jestyer didn't even bother to lift her maw into the air and scream out a demand for someone to come. That was their job, and if they missed this beauty, then so be it. Her banner sliced through the air and auds pricked as a dazzling black bird soared into the sky ahead of her. The sun bounced off it's feathers to give it a shining sheen, and to this her maw cracked upwards into something of a grin, though one couldn't be sure unless they got in extreme close proximity to her. The bird opened it's beak and let out a loud caark! before moving it's tail and zooming off in the other way. But the mare's orbs had locked onto something else. Something that seemed to be coming, towards her.
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Post by Forte! on Nov 10, 2008 20:09:02 GMT -5
This land was always good for finding slaves, though never for much else. The stallion who trotted over it now oozed confidence, authority, despite the stiffness in one shoulder and the knot in his nose from recent battles. Despite his small stature, the pony was obviously a king, a true darkness gleaming out of his beady eyes. A smug smirk painted his lips, drawn back to reveal sharp canines and a ready cunning, as sly as any fox. Suddenly, the form stopped, and the wild pony stopped at the edge of the sudden drop off into the field, his eyes pointed to the source of the freshest scent. A mare, her darkness floating off of her like smoke. The beady eyes twinkled as the stallion studied the creature before him, with a pelt of flames lit by the glorious sun.
"Good morrow!" he cried, trotting down and halting before her with a stony glare, "Or... horrible. For all days are horrible to us, are they not?" His voice rang with a slight hiss as he appraised the mare, who, like most, was taller than him. Though not by much. Others tended to underestimate him for his small stature, though, in the case of Axel, this had turned out to be a bad idea indeed. Bezzle's wins lately had been a turn for the better, he was collecting more mares by the day, from all over the place. But, as of yet, he had no queen, no one to reign with. |
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Post by Frenzi™ on Nov 10, 2008 20:34:17 GMT -5
Jestyer still couldn't believe that she was standing on these tainted grounds, and she was trying to keep her hooves as high off the ground as possible, lifting one at a time and shaking them lightly, as if the contamination was clinging to her. Her maw wrinkled as she put all her hooves on the stained earth, her cranium once more raising towards the spot that had now become a shape, an equine. Her cranium inclined slightly as she tried to make out the equine, and in another couple of seconds, she could, and the inclined head rested back to normal, copper tassels falling back over her nape. When his lyrics met her pricked auds, a smirk fell onto her maw. It was clear he was dark, though she was sure he was not showing the extense of it.
"Good morrow!"
"Or... horrible. For all days are horrible to us, are they not?"
Jestyer narrowed her orbs slightly as the stallion came up, or down, to meet her. She was taller than him, but obviously not by much. But there was always a great advantage to smaller sizes. The jugular, for one, was not as exposed, and you were a lot swifter on your feet than most. "Is today tomorrow already?" she asked, putting a spin on his words that he had said, but choosing to put off the second half. Her copper-gold banner sliced through the air behind her, auds pricking to hear his response.
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Post by Forte! on Nov 11, 2008 18:15:12 GMT -5
At the sound of her words, Bezzle's ears snapped back in a glimmer of warning, his smile fading into something else, something dangerous. Oh, yes, the play he would take, but only if she would be nice about it. If she uttered even the slightest word of insult, he would have her heart. But, in good spirit, he lifted his gaze again, his point made by the mere motions. He was not to be trifled with. Any mare could accept that - if they were weak. If she was a true dark, she would certainly not take such an insult to her person that had shown in that brief turn for the worse that lurked within this stranger whom she had come across. "Ah, but today is the morrow of yesterday, is it not? And surely I did not have the honor of greeting you yesterday, so therefore I must do so in good faith today." He replied gamely, his dark eyes narrowing for an instant before coming open again, studying her person. A quick one, though such a sprightly figure, she looked powerful. Good. He had not come upon a weakling in these lands, then. That was rare, indeed.
For a moment, Bezzle stood his ground, head held high and showing his status with every movement. He would not need to announce that he was the owner of land - it was clear in his prideful glance, the line of his jaw. No loser would hold their head so high - particularly not one with so small a stature. "Do you have a cursing?" he asked after a long moment, his turn of speech still betraying his wild roots. Few of the feral stock who roamed these lands today spoke in the same slangs, for their years of human influence had ruined their once-wild roots. "I am cursed Embezzlement, Bezzle, though I am sure you call me king." the last word was said with the slightest of a hiss, a warning little punch to his status, making it clear to this mare that he was not just some stallion come to gaze upon her beauty and take her to make her fight, to win land. Other mares could do that - his prizes, his winnings, his slaves could fight. But few would take him on now - his greatest enemy had been ground to dust, mincemeat. |
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Post by Frenzi™ on Nov 11, 2008 19:09:20 GMT -5
Jestyer's auds flicked towards Bezzle as the stallion's outside mood changed completely. His auds flicked backwards, and the glint in the orbs was dangerous, and Jestyer carefully took the mood into notes. Her orbs narrowed as she understood the motions, and a funny look came over her face. "Are you implying that I'm a weakling?" she asked, her banner slicing through the air once more. Jestyer didn't mind one bit if he answered her or not, so she let it drop immediately. She, for one, fancied her life. "True," the sun-lit mare responded, still a bit skeptical of the stallion, but she let a sly smile flit onto her maw. "Yes, that is also true. Yet I didn't have the pleasure of meeting you either," Jestyer responded, quite pleased with the stallion before her.
She carefully studied his movements, and the way that he held his smaller stature, crisp and composed, and prideful, she guessed he was some owner of a land, and not one of the imbiciles that call themselves dark and run around without a herd, those kind of loners disgusted Jestyer above everything else, except of course, the lights. "Aye, I am dubbed Court Jestyer, Jestyer if you will," she responded, giving her full name out in a smooth, delicate song that lifted off her tongue like honey. "Bezzle, then. Now, are you quite so sure that, even though you are a King, that I shall call you that?" she asked, not one hint of insult in her spoken lyrics at all. It was simply a question, a gesture of seeing if he was just showing off, or he really was sure of himself; and honestly, neither were bad.
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Post by Forte! on Nov 16, 2008 21:16:33 GMT -5
Bezzle rose his head indignantly at her accusation, though his eyes showed no malice, only a glimmer of respect. This mare was a smart one - she might be good to have around. "My dear lady, if I were to call you a weakling I would have said it to your face, would I have not?" his expression changed, eyes narrowing again, "No. I wouldn't have. Honor is not my style." He didn't return her small smile, only regarded her coldly, as if sizing up her worth. Love was no matter to him, he only looked for strength in his herd, for breeding numbers, for a pure strain of darks. And this mare seemed plenty strong, and clever to boot. And... well... some stallions might die just to lay a muzzle on that beautiful pelt. "True, you did not." he said, all of his malice draining out, but remaining cold, "but the regret was all my own." His eyes glimmered as he said this last, before falling off into silence.
He nodded as she spoke her name. "Jestyer. A worthy name, though I hope you do not live up to it," he sneered a bit, wondering if she would only turn out to be just that in his court. He had no problem with placing a mare high... as long as she was worthy of it. He chuckled a bit at her next sentence, though still it was only cold, unfeeling. "I am quite sure that if you wish yourself no harm, you will call me king if you do not reign beside me." He hinted darkly at his open position, hoping that she would prove herself ready for it. A lead mare was a sign of power, a sign that the kingdom was well. A smart lead mare, on the other hand, could be invaluable. |
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Post by Frenzi™ on Nov 18, 2008 19:29:27 GMT -5
Jestyer listened carefully to his riddle-like lyrics, though she didn't seem to show too much interest. "I would not assume you would, for I have barely met you," she spoke, the words drifting easily off of her tongue. She listened to his comment, but decided to leave it at that. Definately not thinking it worth while to start arguing with a stag. She stood tall and proud while Bezzle seemed to regard her curiously, eyes roving slightly upwards towards the upper horizon, wondering how much longer the sun would stay. The sun always seemed to be her greatest ally, as most horses weren't even worth the while to put any sort of trust, or anything in their hooves for that matter. Jestyer's orbs seemed to dance as he spoke again, and she just nodded, as if agreeing.
"My calling is only a play on words," she assured him, never worried by her own name at all. It wasn't ever a matter of living it down, Jestyer actually loved her name, it tended to give equines the wrong impression before they were completely obliterated. Her auds pricked forward at his next words, though the sound of the chuckle caught her attention. "Oh? And will I?" she asked, her neck arching slightly and banner once again slashing through the breeze that had picked up and tousled with her locks.
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