we laugh with madness in our eyes

[Lórien]

The land around them was hushed, the leaves swirling, dancing to the rhythm of unheard music. Lórien too heard this tune, often setting aside substantial portions of time so she may purely relax and enjoy its soothing tempo. Beneath the pleasing assortment of various trees, the most appealing spectacle, appearing least often was the ancient poplar beneath which she stood; absent and aloof. The child, quickly developing within her womb, was causing little trouble. Yet the memories of who once was a part of that child made all the difference, the source of more pain then this dryad could ever inflict upon her. Soon the gravel would be dusted in a sallow powder.

From beneath the shade she rises, in stricken panic. Sweat tarnished her sorrel hide. Its cool was felt in her bone, so cold… so cold. Yet she is still beautiful, her main disheveled, and the whites, hiding for so long behind the amethyst stone, revealed in a shocking display of dread. It’s just a dream, she reminds herself, in a desperate attempt to keep the memoir from reoccurring. Fully raised from her epigrammatic slumber, the moisture begins to disperse, removing the fresh tears from her noble sorrel face. Within the amethyst-dark eyes of she is the plea, for the images to reside…

Aptly, Lórien put herself in the winds path; she loved its feel against a too fragile body. She was always exposed to such elements, never to seek shelter from its storm. It provoked a sincere smile in her yet as it faded her face still alight with its afterglow, brilliant and blinding in all its faint glory. Ah! But those stars – so bright and brilliant – they reeled ennui at the girl.

Lórien had developed no winter coat, so she too was cold. Shaking in terrible bone wracking chills, she still stood, beautiful as ever. Those lovely amethyst eyes studied them with amusement. Her pale nose drifted across the snow, leaving faint imprints in the powder. Snow flakes in her lashes, fluttering gently as she watches them. Flimsy like paper, yet not so moldable was she. She took quite an interest in this boy. Across her rosy lips shone a devious smile. “Hello, I am Lórien.” She avowed so simply. How tenderly these simple, unhurried words fall from such! With what prompt law does cause this effortless music contemplate into such a feminine display? Within the dusk becoming night, that dims lighting illuminating that tender smile how is she so broken inside?

Through the indefinition of rain thick in her lashes, she could see him. Although his image was vague, the equivocal lines that formed his sallow figure were still visible. Yet she did not strain her vision to grasp images farther, more appealing then his, only because none other seemed commendable, or at least not to her. A lustful grin appeared as she watched him. She wasn’t the type to randomly approach an object of interest unprepared. O no how rude that would be! So as she stands, with hardly any innocence, she was planning. Ah! What a plausible scheme has her o so rational mind created! With such supple allure, feminine refinement she has! She does not reveal that tender, innocent aspect of she, lest her benevolence hinder the loveliness that is lust.

L O R I E N
we laugh with madness in our eyes

[[E]den]

-puts sticker on head and runs out on all fours- MINE!! (shall posteh soonie)

[[E]den]

Bruthen of mahogany lining came within the ess of these lands. Claiming.. Oh the fun within eh? Nares flinched as inhalence took place. 'e discovered another femme within these realms. Perhapse she was decent.. perhapse not. But she would bow down to his ass. For sure. He had let too many femmes walk all over him. And now he would just give the same in return.
Dense ocules formed over the geo wich lay ahead.. Along with a femme. Her shined coat reflected to him. Dial cocked with the oddness in her coloring. Crania bobbed with the motions in trot. He came into her view.. Slowing a few feet from the wrench. Optics of grey bore into hers. The never ending flame burned within his. Never would it be put out. There wasnt enough water to quench the burning myths of the flame....

but when a long train of abuses, and usurpations, pursuing invariably the same object, envinces a design to reduce them with absolute despotism. it is their right, it is their duty, to throw off such government, and provide new guards for their future security... No one really talked that way anymore. This shitty world.. Is falling to pieces. And all knew that.. But none even tried to stop the disaster wich lie ahead. He searched the femmes expressions. Giving off none of his own. Dial tipped with the respect he dued. But he would snap back.. Oh wrench. Dare you speak tones into my aud? Ill shread your pelt before you can even say 'sorry'.

'Lo femme. My dubbance be of Belagio. Where i reside, is not of matter.. As long as i am lead of that, in wich you should know. Femmes are needed within the lands i rule. Shall you lie here? Or shall you follow a leader? Speak wrench!! I shall not waste time!! I take no shit.. So i suggest you give none.

Ocules bore into hers. Brows wrinkled. He was tense.. But he gave off a seriouse emotion. Cord lightly beat against his hock. Banner flew with the motions of the wind. Nares flared.. Air was drawn in and out. All was still. All was silent. Im gonna paint a pretty picture. A picture with a twist.. Ill paint it with a razor, ill paint it on my wrist. Sly smirk was to be seen pon the blackened maw of his. Dominant position took place. Belagios the name. Please do wear it out. For you'll be begging at the name..

Dance dance before my eyes wrench. You shant get the respect you deserve. You.. bow down! You earn this crap from me. Dont think you know the game.. For i have my very own set of rules. Tick-Tock, times awastin. Question my authority? Ill smack this ruler across your palm. A sigh of exhaustion and annoyence seeped through his muzzle. Pestering flies stung pon his back. Placing their suctions into his skin.. Audits laied back and attention drew towards them. Crania shook and his fowardness was to the femme again. Ocules as well as audits searched her for something.. Speechless and redundant eh? Dial bobbed with the cooling sensation. The sun.. began to pour over the horizon. Blue, turning to darker blue, spread across the sky. Soon the night would fall.. To his relief. Not only is darkness fear, but it is full of mystery. Both to his likings.

Its hard to say it
Time to say it
Goodbye, Goodbye.

[Lórien]

A swan ruffles her feathers in a pond by the sea; my Lórien, unperturbed and tender, with anemones in her hair and signs of sea-froth against her legs, follows the trail of cobblestone and driftwood along the mumbling shores. Her hooves swiftly tip-toe against the red-gold dust that shimmers beneath her feet; the product of crushed pearls. A blockade of beach weed sits before her; the ravenous tide slowly gnawing away at the powdered shells that anchors them in place. There is a ruffle as the garnish parts for her passage for it is Lórien who walks through them, though her step is no more than a butterfly’s kiss through shade and sorrow. Long irregular strands of foreign reed bristle against willowy, white legs as the scenic dryad eludes all society. Society seems to equivocate her be that as it may. And through the desiccated pasture she wanders inaudibly; devoid of the slightest desire to covet any conclusive truth. Her request lies unanswered, she continues on her languid search through a world of passionate delusion. Bitter sweet deceit, the delicious fabrication of a world, created through the absolute mendacity of the parched region. Through pale grey eyes, twisted and deluded, surroundings so painfully authentic and captivating no quiet mind could possibly relieve himself of his own foolishness and insanity.

To simply withdraw to her silent corner; only it is not as silent, for she asks (and mind how his tone never wavers out of the cool, casual tone he has adopted), “There is ample prospect that I will join you; but it’s sure as hell not as another common bimbo. ” She is small; woven from sea-froth and cloud. Her skin, pale like granite marble with rich dark patches that run along the tender small of her back. Above her, the swan takes flight. Her brilliant white neck craned forward; the black feathers masking her eyes. Lórien simply stands - among wild flower and mumbling stream - as frothy waters lap across the pale stones; encasing her diminutive hooves. Beneath the beginning hours of night; by a river-side, river-bank of golden sands and listless bubbling, frothing against polished stone and small, multicolored fish, martins and songbirds and swans. There, in the deep of her nameless den, she rests and dreams awake… The wind rustling thought the long dangling limbs of the willow. Its novel green leaves, newly sprouted from the stark branches. In a claret pasture, the tips of young sprouts dyed silver and burgundy by light of moonshine as unsullied blossoms lay encased in delicate trundles of petals shying away from moonlight whilst the tree stood tall and proud amid them all. Its fingers blanketed in child-leaves sprung from the new warmth that settled upon the once icy land and its arms outstretched seeming to brush the very sky.

A hoof rises and falls listlessly in earth - red-gold powder and frothy ocean liquid. Her eyes dance, alight with the slight after glow of a smile; but when she speaks, her voice is sad. Those wide, ember eyes glow as star-fire; but they are also empty when she accepts the invitation and request, with a turn of her narrow head.

[[E]den]

The cool crisp breeze lapsed over his pelting. A shiver of cold surpassed him. Attention towards the femme. Audits tuned into her words.. Her words of kindness... Her words of wisdom. Crania dipped with the respect he now owed her. She had impressed him well. She hadnt snapped like any other. He loved her temper. He loved her lusciouse scent that dangled from her bristles. Ocules scanned hers for a sign of rebell. Though none of that sort was detected. Rasping whinnied of the nearby equines roared in the distance. Though they were blocked out by him. He was sticking to this one.. She was a fine one indeed. Motions of respect and subdue were shown with slight progress. The sparrows, and hawks plunged overhead. Screechings from their very beaks were sounded. Never did he turn his gaze. Never did he make a sound. Slight smile could be plainly seen pon his maw. A heavy sigh released his nares.. All is well femme. You've done your duties far more than expected. Welcome to a whole new side of this bitch called Belagio.
Not a stir was about in the forest. It was far past time to return.. The lead femme would be waiting... But she shant lay a hoof across this one dubbed Lorien. For the respect of he was earned far more by this femme than his own lead.. Perhapse he had made a mistake. But he would fix it in due time. Perhapse Lorien deserved lead femme.. Though his wrench in froid seemed to have a bad ass' attitude. She had decent fighting skills. But she didnt know about Lorien just yet.

I shall not treat you like shit if thats what you mean.. Your far more delicate to me than any other. I am glad.. you have joined the harem of thee.

A flick of his cord and he was off. A smile could now be seen plainly.. It had been much time since he felt this way. He brushed past the femme.. Lightly nipping her withers as he came by. He rounded past her haunches. Crania thrashed in midair. He was spirited.. For the time atleast. And so he began.. The trek once again to the land he was homed. Sleek lining shifted as the muscles soothed as the went. A steady trot, was taken place.

[ooc: blah it sucks. sorry.. i may modify later. i gtg workie. -mumbles and walks out-]

[Lórien]

mmkay so can you post for her in your home ? i'm not quite sure where that is tho -sheepish smile-