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Post by BB on Jun 13, 2007 19:24:27 GMT -5
xXYo, ho, haul together,
hoist the colors high.
Heave ho,
thieves and beggars,
never shall we dieXxDaggers, charred ebon broken and clipped where thrung across the land, dead grass fall underfoot.Scraggled plumes of an even darker color were strangled by thee whisperin' wind. boa was slapped over, and turn over by thy charred whips. Johnny roger was painted by thy rump, Meaning only on thing. Pirate horse...skulled so ivory it seemed to be real.Sky darkened slowly Mind lazily floated back to a time where thy........... Salt, was all thy knew. The salt and the wind. The Sea.Cranium rested on thee railing, Spray twisted and flew,strikin' all tat stood in its presence. Sun glittered so brilliantly, Turning the water to a diamond and the spray to jewels. wind whispered hard enough to push thy's painted flag the served as a bandanna flat. Litte did they know.....Slowly mind was flickered back, Misted, salt spray, became fresh rain cold as ice.Waves rolled into hills. The sun became sparse flashes of lightnin', vibrantly lightnin' thee sky.Auds never flickered, never trust, Never love.... xXand Raise The RogerXx ~Not Good aat starters~ |
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Post by .x.Leader of Lost Souls.x. on Jun 13, 2007 22:57:52 GMT -5
.x.Dire Bonjour.x Stood on the very end of the tattered ditch, staring down its long, curving path. Dark brown optics stared ahead into the gathering fog as it drifted morbidly across the surface of the ashen covered ground. Hooves sank slightly into the thick layer of ash on the ground, creating imprints that would disappear as soon as he moved. It was evening, the sun almost completely tucked into its bed behind the horizon. The sky and clouds were painted with many different hues of dark red, orange, and even a little pink thrown in for flavor. The darkness that preceedes the arrival of the moon was closing in, engulfing all in its cold grasp. It ran over the sleek noir pelt of the Morgan stag as he stood there, silent and ominous.
As the sun's last rays of luminesence faded into the night, the stag raised his skull slightly. Dark mane fell over facade, shading the dark brun optics that watched the earth llifelessly. Whipcord cracked on the air once, then twice with a thunderous noise that disrupted the deafening silence that hung like a plague to forever ring in a equine's auds. Harks laid themselves to their graves, hididng beneath the curtain of hair that grew silky and dark from the apex of nape. Maw never made a move as a word was spilled out onto the air. BonjourThick French accent thrummed the air, the words seeming frail and small against the absence of noise. Though his breed was not French-bred, nor had anything to do with the French, it seemed as though the language was his native tongue. Indeed, he used it as such. Many tend to ask what language he would prefer, granted he knew all the ones existing in the world. His answer has been, and always will be; French. Maybe it is the way the words melt in your mouth and roll off your tongue like a salt lick. Or perhaps it was because of the romantic air it proudly carried. None could have said why, and known for sure. Even if you could have read his mind, you wouldn't know; he thinks in French.[/blockquote][/color] .x.Dire Bonjour.x. [/size][/color] |
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Post by BB on Jun 14, 2007 7:41:32 GMT -5
xXThe king and his menXx
xXStole the queen from her bedXx
XXAnd bound her in her BonesXx
xXThe seas be oursXx
xXAnd by the powersXx
xXWhere we will well roamXxOptics flickered,suddenly, so that is seemed everything by left the Earth, before return. Crack sharper then Lightnin' sounded. Optics settled 'pon another's. Glare hardened to a sickenin' ice.Maw parted, escapin' lyrics were hushed out.... "Qué tú quieren"~Spanish MUAHHHA, you can kill me~ Darkness hued itself over the land charred, like hell. B'tch had to speak many tongues or thy would be very unfortuante....Muscles rippled slowly thy took forward, before stopin'. Jolly Roger Had been rippled upon thy bayed rump. Entangled banner hung low, near thee ground. Whips thick as a rock were cascadin' lower then thy withers. Optics of ebon were locked on thee others. Piece of canvas tied round thee boa showed the same roger....b'tch hard and cold. True as death. Wouldn't abandon thee roger. It was thee only way thy knew how to live.... xXAnd Watch The Colours FlyXx~muse is soooooo low sorry~ |
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Post by BB on Jun 14, 2007 13:20:03 GMT -5
She said What Do You Want
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Post by BB on Jun 14, 2007 13:30:52 GMT -5
She just took a step forward that's about it
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Post by .x.Leader of Lost Souls.x. on Jun 14, 2007 23:47:48 GMT -5
.x.Comment Impoli.x. Scan the female, making sure she was...of the right material. What a waste it would be to have an unfit mare die in lands such as his own. The clean air here was making him lightheaded, and he longed to be back within his own territory, breathing ash. It seemed that his color, everytime he strayed away to find members, grew brighter. How he hated it. Though to eyes here, he was black as midnight. To see him in his own ash-laden land...he was made of shadows.
As the mare stepped forward, skull was risen. Chin tucked slightly towards chest, nape arching to allow only an inch or so between contact. Nares flared in a snort, annoyance written plain on the stag as her words reached his harks. Towers had slipped, unnoticed, beneath tresses. As if a predator, waiting for the moment to strike. Thus, further portraying his annoyance with the language. Spanish. He only understood it because it was somewhat like French. Maw unmoving, reply was given.
Pour vous joindre mon troupeau. Je m'appelle Leader of Lost Souls.
His introduction, oddly enough, came after he had answered her question. Nine out of ten times the horse would have said something to the effect of 'wouldn't it be rude not to introduce yourself?' Well, this is what set this stallion apart from others. He was a Chaotic Evil Morgan stallion who spoke French and acted like a Neutral. .x.Comment Impoli.x. |
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Post by BB on Jun 15, 2007 6:50:54 GMT -5
xXSome men have diedXx
xXand some are aliveXx
xXAnd others sail on the seaXx
xX–with the keys to the cage...Xx
xXAnd the Devil to payXx
xXWe lay to Fiddler's Green!XxSickin' smirk spread across thy maw at his annyoance. Charred optics were filled with hate. Tangled plumes of thee same color were snatched by a slow wind. Whips were thrown crackin' thee silence. Maw parted once more for thee Annyoance of the brute. "Porqué debe I, a propósito él es Vida Del Pirata. Bien que vous puissiez m'appeler pirate"French was thrown into thy spanish at thee end. Cruel, raspin', Chuckle follow afterwards. Wait, was shifted to thine hind pillars, while front were thrown out at the brute. Thy wasn't scared, just bored to death.... Thy was a pirate that was thrown onto the land adn could never return to sea unless someone came and got thy...Dark-hearted and cruel. Thy trust had been stolen, an dlove had never been known. Auds were silented to there graves, while optics raged of hate and dull boredem..... xXAnd They LeftXx ~In Case you Didn't Know She has a skull tattooed on her rump and a peaice of canvas tied around her neck. Now I Gottasa to use a translator~ |
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Post by .x.Leader of Lost Souls.x. on Jun 16, 2007 19:30:41 GMT -5
ooc//What did she say? My translator does't make sense of it... |
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Post by BB on Jun 17, 2007 17:03:12 GMT -5
In Spanish She said I'm Vida Del Pirata, THen In French She said, But You Can Call Me Pirate
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Post by .x.Leader of Lost Souls.x. on Jun 24, 2007 17:38:37 GMT -5
ooc//this is gonna be short. my muse just died x.x .x.Bof.x. Harks prick, flicking at the combination of the two languages. This mare was quite interesting. Banner smacked flanks as the stag stood there. Silently thinking over thing in his mind, he remained perfectly still. His blank orbs stared through the mare, unfocusing on anything; at that which was perceived by the normal eye. It seemed that he was lost in his own thoughts, as if in a different world. Or at least on a different plain. Then, when anyone would have been ready to leave, he moved. Lifting his skull, he blinked, regarding the mare before him. A slight smirk hovered on his mug, as whispy and faint as a ghost in darkness.
Fera vous joint mon troupeau, à Bereavement Volcano?
The question was simple enough, as it was stated to be. It required either a yes or a no. And either answer would have been fine. Though most stags would have angered at the declination, this particular stallion didn't mind. If she did not want to join his herd, then sobeit. He would seek another. .x.Bof.x. |
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Post by BB on Jul 20, 2007 3:25:46 GMT -5
xXYet If All Was LostXx
xXAnd The World Thrown SaneXx
xXWhere would That Leave us lotXx
Orb's hinted nothin' of glee, nothin' radianced 'round thy b'tch, all that was smuggled into the world was one lonely word. YEt was spit in such a way it sounded like a million words in one second.
" Si' "
Harks were still low in there rightful spots. Deamonic orb's held nothin' for the brute. B'tch was just another empty hate-filled soul. All that rang in thy mind was the word hate, nothin' ever replaced, The L' word was not known of. B'tch looked away for a moment, but there were other words there but hate was the dominat. The Others were locked and filed into a past that was now lost to the world. No one ever cared, B'tch didn't care. IT was just the way life worked. Thy wasn't perfect and didn't act like some pathetic snob like most dark mares did. No This one knew thy place, but thy didn't mind havin' a fight every fuckin' day.
~sorrys it's short I know~ |
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Post by BB on Aug 15, 2007 19:45:15 GMT -5
FIN
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