Post by Eyslk on Sept 28, 2005 20:15:11 GMT -5
Okay well first i'll note this is my newest post, however it is from a horse rpg. My skills have gone down hill lately since Gelid shut down. I thought of posting one of those things, since they are all about a wolf character, however the excessive HTML formatting and occassional harse swear has made be think better not to. If you'd like a different post, or if you'd like me to type one up off the top of my head (I'm never quite good at that because I have no muse to go on) I will. So here it is.
The voice was like steam rising from the woodland only it wasn’t wood it were a clearing and Zoal was standing in it.
He’d always had a soft spot form music as though the very thing bad been burned into his bloodstream; a hybrid with a lot of problems. “—You’d tell me. But listen and think when I say, oh but listen, and think when I say. Who makes you feel the way that I make you feel; who who? Who loves you and knows you--” The words were fluid. One might say he had a pleasant tone for singing although it was’t a predominant feature. Zoal’s eyes were already quickly surveying the area. The field stretched on another ten yards or so and abruptly became a dense wash of forest. Sunlight beat down on his back glaring off the snow and his body took in the energy so it burned in the cold winter air. His hooves were seeping into the covering till they reached frozen ground and stuck; ow. “—You the way I do; who who. Who makes you feel the like I make you feel,” he belted out that which he knew and stopped, suddenly silent stunted ears seeking for another sound. Few birds chattered, those that did carried on softly, but there was something else, a snap. The stag braced himself and scented the air; the musk of forest was all that came, nothing else. So Zoal simply continued, only humming to himself.
He had been here but a week. With a mind that had been reeling and rapidly absorbing every ounce of information he could, the male was on his final destination and still going strong. He closed his lids and mused silently for a moment, his breathe becoming fog as it poured from the dark brown nostrils. Raising his head, he just listened, and used sound to pick across the meadow where Zoal at last erupted into a flurry of movement and was flying blind across the topography snow kicking at his heels in great clouds. It didn’t matter, he were half blind anyway.
Zoal stopped when he felt the prickle of branches touching his face. He pried open his eyes one gazing into the open woods. His mother had been shunted of sight at birth he believed, he unfortunately could not be so lucky. Now he moved his body carefully into the trees, a dull layer of fur protecting him from their rough handle. A test. He sought it only for a moment, and found his target, thicker trees and bramble that led further into the grounds. Zoal would follow it and pick out his own path, one that very few horses could follow, then he would wait and hope they would come, and it would all slowly fall into place. Cause Rosewinged had a son.
The voice was like steam rising from the woodland only it wasn’t wood it were a clearing and Zoal was standing in it.
He’d always had a soft spot form music as though the very thing bad been burned into his bloodstream; a hybrid with a lot of problems. “—You’d tell me. But listen and think when I say, oh but listen, and think when I say. Who makes you feel the way that I make you feel; who who? Who loves you and knows you--” The words were fluid. One might say he had a pleasant tone for singing although it was’t a predominant feature. Zoal’s eyes were already quickly surveying the area. The field stretched on another ten yards or so and abruptly became a dense wash of forest. Sunlight beat down on his back glaring off the snow and his body took in the energy so it burned in the cold winter air. His hooves were seeping into the covering till they reached frozen ground and stuck; ow. “—You the way I do; who who. Who makes you feel the like I make you feel,” he belted out that which he knew and stopped, suddenly silent stunted ears seeking for another sound. Few birds chattered, those that did carried on softly, but there was something else, a snap. The stag braced himself and scented the air; the musk of forest was all that came, nothing else. So Zoal simply continued, only humming to himself.
He had been here but a week. With a mind that had been reeling and rapidly absorbing every ounce of information he could, the male was on his final destination and still going strong. He closed his lids and mused silently for a moment, his breathe becoming fog as it poured from the dark brown nostrils. Raising his head, he just listened, and used sound to pick across the meadow where Zoal at last erupted into a flurry of movement and was flying blind across the topography snow kicking at his heels in great clouds. It didn’t matter, he were half blind anyway.
Zoal stopped when he felt the prickle of branches touching his face. He pried open his eyes one gazing into the open woods. His mother had been shunted of sight at birth he believed, he unfortunately could not be so lucky. Now he moved his body carefully into the trees, a dull layer of fur protecting him from their rough handle. A test. He sought it only for a moment, and found his target, thicker trees and bramble that led further into the grounds. Zoal would follow it and pick out his own path, one that very few horses could follow, then he would wait and hope they would come, and it would all slowly fall into place. Cause Rosewinged had a son.
