A Shadowed Redemption [Neutral/Dark]

[C a h o r s]

[glow=gray,2,300]...take me down...[/glow]

Kiger 'essa strode through the tall grasses that made a sound like water. When one closes their eyes, they might imagine themselves near the shore with the water lapping softly at the rocks like a puppy's soft pitter-patter as he runs. Ice blue eyes of this contessa scanned all around her, black tresses moving with the wind as if it was not part of the horse at all, but a stray blade of ebon grass on the gales that caressed the land. The moon was high, the midnight sun's reflection off the emerald ocean that was the field making the grass seem to be an ever-stretching ocean of life. However, this fem was a tad too dismal for things such as joy and life. She, a Neutral by heart but a Dark by bloodline, was an outcast. Vagabond, ragavash, outlaw, miscreant, they could call her what they willed. They would get theirs one day soon.

Going atop a small knoll she closed her ice-blue pools and let the winds play with her mane and tail, sensually moving over her soft bodice with easy grace and poise. Her ripe scent resonated through the plains, the smell alone enough to call any to her. She need not raise her voice just yet.

[glow=gray,2,300]...into your shadowed hells...[/glow]

[C a h o r s]

Bumpeh...

[.x.Leader of Lost Souls.x.]

.x.Je Peux Vous Montrer Le Monde.x.

Was to be the last trip from his land for the rest of the week. It was too...clean out here. The air was too fresh, it burned his lungs and stung his eyes almost to tears. Everything here was so crystal clear and easy to perceieve. It was rather disgusting. How he longed for the dark, smokey land that he called home. The falling ash through the air made it nearly impossible to see but a foot before your nose. And the air so thick that any who weren't used to it would cough and gag until they died from lack of oxygen.

Flints ground to a halt as another equine rounded into vision range. Skull lowered slightly, becoming even with spine, hanging just before cage. Harks hovered above nape, not wanting to flatten, yet unwilling to stand straight. It was not indecision, far from it. More of a 'bored with both positions' thing. Maw unmoving, words spilled forth.

Bonjour, madamazelle. Je m'appelle Leader of Lost Souls. Et toi?

The french words laid their accent thick upon the air, unaccustomed to being able to fly so easily and go so far. This place truly was different from his volcanic home. And it almost pained him to be away.

.x.Je Peux Vous Montrer Le Monde.x.

[C a h o r s]

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