Post by Tassle on Aug 6, 2007 13:34:35 GMT -5
Lazily, mare trod through her terr. She had not seen or heard from her lord in quite some time...well...a few hours, but it had seemed like a long time to her. And besides, she had a little something she wanted to show her lord. Dial turned, checking to make sure the present was keeping up. It was. Splashed minutae pranced alongside her, crown held regally high. The little one had survived his first day in the breeding grounds. Already the colt's muscles were beginning to fill out into the strong equine it would grow to be.
Unlike her little one, fem's cranium was held neutral, swaying slightly with the exhaustion of childbirth. The wind buffetted her mask, bringing with it two scents. That of her lord, and another. Auds pinned. So that was where he was. With someone else. While he was off galavanting off with another mare, she was giving birth to his heir. Well, she needed to correct that little problem.
Pistons jolting with newfound strength, she and her foal raced across what was left of the space between the lord and lady. But, sooner than she had expected, mare skidded to a halt. The other equine, the one her lord was paying so much attention to, was a youngling. An infant. Not much older than her own little cherub. Interesting.
Hello, milord. She bowed slightly to Etienne, scanning his expression. What would he think of his heir? What have we here? Spite rang in her lyrics. She did not hide it. Just because the soul was a minute horse did not mean she deserved special treatment.
(The foal's stats are in my thread in the birthing grounds in case you need them. )
Unlike her little one, fem's cranium was held neutral, swaying slightly with the exhaustion of childbirth. The wind buffetted her mask, bringing with it two scents. That of her lord, and another. Auds pinned. So that was where he was. With someone else. While he was off galavanting off with another mare, she was giving birth to his heir. Well, she needed to correct that little problem.
Pistons jolting with newfound strength, she and her foal raced across what was left of the space between the lord and lady. But, sooner than she had expected, mare skidded to a halt. The other equine, the one her lord was paying so much attention to, was a youngling. An infant. Not much older than her own little cherub. Interesting.
Hello, milord. She bowed slightly to Etienne, scanning his expression. What would he think of his heir? What have we here? Spite rang in her lyrics. She did not hide it. Just because the soul was a minute horse did not mean she deserved special treatment.
(The foal's stats are in my thread in the birthing grounds in case you need them. )