pirate
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Post by pirate on Nov 29, 2012 2:56:27 GMT -5
Beneath the hooves of her nimble limbs, Zee could hear the delicate crunching of fallen pine-needles cushioning her steps. Her gait was brisk, muzzle turned into her chest and dirty-blond hair bouncing with the movements. At her side, as he always was, Kuro kept a gait with his larger companion, antlered skull lifted with his cloven-hooves barely making a rustle. Without many close companions aside from her mother Zee had grown used to Kuro being her only company, scouting throughout the territory of her tribe and often sneaking a peek over ridges toward where the “enemy” lived. Somewhere within the Arcaian Kingdom her father lived, she had to believe such a thing in her heart rather than turn to the more reasonable idea that he may have died. He had spent the last four years living as a prisoner to their culture; Zee’s dam had all but given up on the idea that he could one day return to them.
Faithful little Zellia with her mind so full of vigorous youth and a craving to taste greatness often disagreed, envisioning herself marching onto the Arcaian’s and rescuing the sire she didn’t know single-handedly. Four years, he’d missed her first wobbly-legged steps to the first words she managed to speak. Would he even know her? Love her? Zee’s ear flicked and her bouncy sort of trotting gait faltered, mind elsewhere as she awkwardly drew to a halt. Her breath slipped from her flared nostrils, her eyelids blinked slowly over her brilliantly green eyes and her lips broke apart just by a fraction. The soft, warm caress of a muzzle was quickly felt against her shoulder and when Zellia turned her head Kuro was there, a knowing look in his gaze.
Though most were known to grow with their spiritual animal companion, Zellia had been gifted a special case. As a young foal without her strong father, Kuro had seemed to step in where her sire’s influence had been absent. Like a good conscience or a guardian angel, Kuro watched over Zellia and stood by her when things seemed rather rotten. He did not support her dreams to storm the Arcaian Kingdom and set her sire free or anything of that sort but for all his comfort and wisdom, Zellia was always allowed to dream.
She craned her neck about to bump his long-haired shoulder before turning and beginning to walk through the forest once more. Her head was forced to lower and extend around certain branches, careful not to tangle her spiraled antlers into any low-hanging limbs. Her dirty-blond tail swished delicately with each step behind her hindquarters, mixing pleasantly with the sound of the woodlands around her. For a moment there was peace, enveloped in the sights, scent and sounds of the forest with Kuro as her companion.
It changed when she heard a noise, a heavy weighted one like the stepping of a hoof. Zellia halted and lifted her head quickly, ears twitching and eyes searching. “Hello?” Her sweet, gentle voice called out and crawled about the staggering pine forest, reaching for the one who was near enough to hear it.
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Post by ЯED on Nov 29, 2012 3:26:45 GMT -5
[th][cs=3][rs=3][atrb=border,0,true][bg=141414][atrb=width,500]
[style=font-size:22pt; font-family: times; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000000; letter-spacing: 3px; color:#6a634f;]W I T C H E R they tell us to see, speak and hear no evil but the problem is, the evil lives within us |
[/b][/u] It sounded almost robotic; an automatic response that he had been taught so many years ago in his foal years. Turning his larger body somewhat he eyed her from the side, slowly circling her almost though stopping at her side. "Who are you, Rakwor" Reaching out he gently prodded her with the very tips of his antlers almost as if inspecting her through a physical touch; with the touch moving around her once again to stand before her though perhaps closer than before. "Do you know who I am?"[/color] [/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]
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pirate
New Member
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Post by pirate on Nov 29, 2012 3:50:08 GMT -5
Zellia, still young at four and beneath her mother’s eye was constantly lectured over important details like rules and beliefs of the tribe she’d been born into. Names were known to her, physical beings were pointed out when need be and it was constantly driven into her mind to be respectful of not just nature, but also her fellow tribesmen. Her lashes barely brushed the skin as her eyelids closed and then opened again, nostrils lightly pressed out as she took in the scent of forest and male, gaze now captivated by the tall, scarred and antlered being she knew to be her chief. For a moment there was fear inside her, the kind of fear that came from being a creature of little to know importance in the presence of someone of spectacular importance. Every lesson her mother taught her (those she listened to as well as those she naively ignored) hounded her mind and set her heart racing.
“Kin-it,” she offered in a quieter voice than his strong tone, her muzzle lowering and her gaze sweeping to the ground in a sort of respectful bow. The dirty-blond strands of her bangs tangled themselves about her oddly spiraled antlers, brushing over her brow. Zellia stood still as the chief of the Keluk tribe moved about her, ears twitching to follow where his body stood in relation to her skull. She listened to the way the earth responded to his weight, to the way he breathed and only felt a small wave of nerves any time he stopped. She had never been in such revered company before, so young and foolish that she often ran wild when her dam couldn’t control her. The woods were her playground, the streams and fallen logs her obstacles to leap over, it was all too easy to forget that she had a place and couldn’t stay young forever.
“I am Zellia,” she said when prompted, the words falling like drifting autumn leaves separated from their life-branches. Her green eyes darted beneath her half-lowered eyelids, moving to capture the image of him at her side. Zee noticed the scars along his body, the muscles sharply sculpted beneath his skin and the grand appearance of his large, bone-white antlers. Her heartbeat quickened and her mouth felt dry, both of them being emotions she didn’t understand. Kuro, ever tied to Zellia, felt these emotions as they occurred throughout her and lifted his eyes to find the tall stallion whose audience they held. His ears turned forward, his lips pressed together and he observed with full curiosity.
Her skin gave a delicate shiver when touched by the tips of his antlers, giving away a small vision of her nerves. When he began to move again, his body traveling out to her front, Zellia lifted her head and watched him quietly. He had an air about him that spoke of importance, or maybe her youth had concocted it in her mind. She blinked once at his question and then offered a nod, a small smile barely chasing the corners of her lips. “Yes, our leader, Witcher.” Again she gave a small decline of respect once she’d said his name and then lifted her head again, that smile coming back to her lips as her eyes soaked him in. “It is good to meet you,” she offered, knowing her mother would have required such pleasantries of her.
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Post by ЯED on Dec 1, 2012 0:46:42 GMT -5
[th][cs=3][rs=3][atrb=border,0,true][bg=141414][atrb=width,500]
[style=font-size:22pt; font-family: times; text-shadow: 1px 1px 1px #000000; letter-spacing: 3px; color:#6a634f;]W I T C H E R they tell us to see, speak and hear no evil but the problem is, the evil lives within us |
[/i]. He rolled her name around within his mind committing it to his memory as well the image of her. "Zellia." He spoke her name just as he had his greeting from earlier as if though testing the weight of it upon his tongue; tasting it so to speak. At his tone the eagle flapped its' wings to-ward the two, shaking its' head as if in amusement knowing full well in some sense Witcher enjoyed his ability to make others nervous for the mere appearance of himself - even if the brute did not realize his little enjoyment in it. The eagle could feel so much more, knew so much more about the being he was linked too; able to feel what he himself did not realize he felt. Witcher for his part could always feel the calculating black eyes of the spirit at his side; he had once been told stories when he was younger of how when every creature was born a spirit stood beside them, guiding them with light in the darkness and singing to them. How there were voices all around them; some to guide and others to destroy and this animal..spirit that was truly theirs was the one who sang within them. He didn't understand then...barely understood it now in his later years. Mentally giving himself a shake he ignored the almost knowing look the bird briefly fell upon him; instead returning his own eyes to the mare before him, inclining his head slowly to acknowledge her being correct in who he was. "It is always a pleasure to meet those I am responsible for." Tilting his head the muscle above his eye ticked somewhat in his next question. "Do tell me...what are you doing so far out on your own?" Spreading its' wings the distorted and fuzzy image of the eagle flapped for a moment to-ward the two only to land before the animal at her side looking at him nearly the same way Witcher himself was looking at Zellia. "I do not think it is at all safe for your to be out alone." Taking a half-step to-ward her he motioned past her shoulder with his head; antlers reaching past her shoulder of the direction behind her. "Allow me to escort you back." He did not say it meanly or even commanding, but sliding his larger form past her left it apparent he was leaving no real argument or question.[/color] [/div][/td][/tr][/table][/center]
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pirate
New Member
hoist the colours!
Posts: 13
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Post by pirate on Dec 1, 2012 1:48:35 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 435px; background-color: #201713; border-top: #5f8b4e solid 5px; border-bottom: #5f8b4e solid 5px; width: 435px; padding-top: 10; padding-bottom: 10;]Zellia had never been profound enough or taken a moment in her life to reflect on the strong bond between herself and the four-legged kudu who had been her constant companion. He took the place of a close friend, sometimes even blurring the line as a stoic serkim figure she’d never had. He knew more than she ever might but did not school her as her neque did. Lessons did not come past his wise lips, as though he only meant to bring her comfort. Was he shaped by her whimsy or had Kuro been birthed into the world as she had, with his own mind and emotions? If she had been cruel would he have been cruel? These thoughts did not occur to Zellia today and would not for a very, very long time. Although she had already seen her fourth nameday Zee still behaved very much like a free-spirited child.
Her slender ears gave a subtle flick, turning from the woods and toward her tribal leader. A small breath of air passed from her lips, barely parted as she stood as still as she ever had. Her neque would have been both proud and astonished of her daughter, freedom tamed by the presence of their strong appearing leader. Zellia’s attention was not on what her neque might think, however, her every whim at the disposal of the Keluk leader. With every ticking second that past her green gaze threatened to dart from his face and toward the numerous pale scars bubbled over his flesh. Envisions of great battles began to swarm in her head, Witcher being the champion in each as he stormed down the enemies who had taken her serkim so many years ago. The invasive question bubbled on her tongue, begging Zellia to ask after the stories behind the scars but even though she mostly acted like a child she had enough sense to hold the inquiry to herself.
Instead she made certain to keep her direct focus on his face, but even there she noted the long scars and nearly trembled with excitement in dreams of glory. His question quickly dissipated those wonderings, letting a feeling of shame crawl hot beneath her flesh instead. Zellia shifted in her spot, weight moving from one side to the other as she averted her eyes and felt as if she were a scolded lamb of a child. “I,” she tried to start but couldn’t think of an excuse that might pass before him, so instead she mumbled the rest of the truth, “sometimes get carried away when I run.” The heat grew, more humiliation filling her.
Kuro tilted his skull down as the great bird-of-prey landed amongst the pine-needle flooring before him. He did not speak, allowing Zellia to stumble and pick herself back up in this situation. He did not need to act as her neque, scolding and launching verbal lesson after verbal lesson to teach her how to walk in life. His slender nostrils gave a small quiver, but his eyes did not shy from the feathered spiritual creature.
“I have Kuro,” she said and lifted her head, turning to look at her companion. It wasn’t a very persuasive or strong speech, merely an afterthought as though Zellia hoped it might save her reputation. Her neque had said the same thing many times and so Zee already understood it was a lost argument. Kuro slid his quiet gaze toward her, a flat look expressed between them that meant he was quietly mimicking exactly what she was thinking. Zellia swallowed and nodded before moving her weight so she could pick up her hooves and turn to walk by his side. The feeling of being a wronged child grew more and more with each second, so Zellia cleared her throat and fished for something to say which might distract those emotions. “Your friend is magnificent.” Her eyes trailed to the spiritual animal tied to Witcher, and she observed him quietly. |
[/td][/tr][/table] TEMPLATE BY LALA YO! OF CAUTION 2.0[/center]
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