x. a new home .x

[anauma]

Dark stag stands over the swamp, his chest thrust out. His eyes scan the dry plains, the damp swamp. He wonders about what it was like before he had discovered Kembolia. He had always felt that he belonged there. True enough. It belonged to him. But who had been the previous owner? Who had first set eyes on this site besides the god himself?

Anauma sighed. The wind ruffled his black forelock out of his eyes. His eyes shifted to the hills far northward, where the eye could see nothing more. The Border, he called it. But what lay beyond this border? What was to be found there? Curiously he stretched out his neck, straining to see more. But as usual, he could not.

A fly bit at his hide yet he did not move. He shook his mane and scanned Kembolia for the figure of the mare he knew was there.

[kudos]

Her small frame came into the humid swamp of deathly silence...and the scent of it was pure mallice. Her heart skipped a beat, losing is rythem just for a moment, for how she loved the sence of death and mischeif. The great long swamp grasses swayed lighly in the suttle breeze, that threatened to take away the smell she was begining to love. The swamp grass, of which she know not the name of the folliage, was sharp. So sharp that if unexpectantly grabbing a mouthful of the putrid grass, it would cut the insides of the maw.

A sly smirk played across her maw, for how she loved to see the shear pain play across the dials of many equines that had unwittily and greedily took in the blastid folliage. Her crimson coat shimmered dully in the moon of which was rising above, into the hell of night.

Her orbs danced with interest at the scent of which she had just sought....The scent of her stag lingered. His crimson was still very strong against the strong scent of the damp swamp. Its peaty soils holding in the scent even longer. The vixes bodice came to a standstill when she caught movement not to far beyond her. It was her brute. He silently was looking Northward, towards the endless abyss.

She stood taking him in, then as if he knew that he was being watched, his elegant boa, with the dreads of time, was turned in her directions. She knew he had sighted her. For she was hard not to be seen. She looked inocent and beautiful...

[Sorry I took so long. You know how it goes.]

[anauma]

[yup]

He dipped his head down to graze, the sharp points of the gass pricking at his tongue. He felt the blood run down his throat and he raised his head as to savor it. Smacking his kissers, he looked around once again. He could not see her.

Anauma was about to give up looking when he spotted a dark form in the moonlight. A soft burr escaped from his maw as he watched her survey the swamp with aroused curiousity. Then he saw her turn her head to survey him.

Quickly he began to roll in the grasses, feeling the searing painfilled needles pierce his flank. When he was done rolling he got up, freed his mane of the itchy needles. Then he trotted down the ridge toward her, sharp grasses sticking out of him. If he had not been alive and well, it would have made a gruesome scene, like the result of some great battle.

[kudos]

The vixens slates stayed fixed upon the brute as he rolled with a bit unorthadox movement yet he was gracefull in his own unmannerly way. The brutes slates seemed to be searching after he had gotten up, searching for what? Searching for her she soon learned as his pillars began moving in a rythmic tune towards her own small chassy.

Her devinly dished dial was in the direction of him. He can closer, noticeing a small amount for crimson being dropped from his flanks, for the grass had yet another victem of a small magnatude. How she, a lowly vixen, wondered much of this brute, of his history, of his battles. She herself could not bring herself to mention her own hell like history. Of battles...she had not fought, but watched many an equine be battered away from another, more experience equine. She would not be unprepared when the day chose her to become involved in battle. She was no mere vixen, almost a god...a legend of the light gone into the depths of hell.

Her small audits laced back, for her history had come up once more in her mind. She hated it and all that she once was...pathetic really. But now...now she had power. Her slates once more focused upon the brute.

What does though want of me?
Her small audits danced upon her head and her neck craned as though a facial expresion was being shown. How she wished she could be re-taught the langage she had long forgotten. Her audits atomatically laced upon her delicate crown, for the darks custom was of this. A slight hiss escaped her kissers, for she would always be like this...even though she was now the wench of Anauma. She should bow down before the great brute...but she had that streak in her. She almost thought it amussed the great brute.

A sly smirk layed across her maw as the great brute drew closer...

[x anauma x]

His lobes laced back against his head at the sound of her hiss, yet he seemed unconcerned. His caudal flicked slightly. In reaction to her hiss he merely slowed his steps and a low burr escaped from his throat, a chuckle, perhaps of amusement? Maybe so. Perhaps surprise registered, but if so he did not show it. He had come to her because she had been alone, and perhaps was one of those who liked being with company.

He did and said nothing. The beautiful silence of his land seemed to ripple through him. Silence was golden. Though he would like to find out more about this mare, she would have to make the first move. He did not like creating a conversation at the wrong time, often being regarded with glares or harsh voices. He dipped his head to graze, yet one ear flickered toward her to let her know he was listening if she made a move.

[x anauma x]

He had heard the question she had 'asked' him, yet did not answer. Only his reaction would. Would she understand that she was free to do anything she liked, did not have to follow him? That he was always listening?

[kudos]

Another sly smirk played accross the delicate maw of the wench that stood before the great darkened brute. She was in one of her selfish, greedy moods. How she loved to toy with the minds of everything and everyone...but how could she leave him? After he had taken the wench in, wretched manners and all. How forgiving this brute was for a dark. A little too forgiving.

He had began to remind her of her earlier times...

The suction of the sickly oozing peat bellow her daggers began to annoy the vixen. Her slates lay accross of what it was... a sick mess. Her lungs drank in the oxygen heavily, then releasing her own stench along with the carbon dioxide. Her nares flared slightly, the pink innards of them showing clearly that she was no god, but merely a mortal...one of the earth.

How at one time she had thought of herself as a God...but soon learned otherwise. Her slates still focused upon the ooz of peat, but her audits clearly focused upon the brute that lay before her. Her devinely cupped audits focused on every move he made...for she had lost a sence, but hightened the rest of hers. Long years along had would have hightened them enough, but then with no means of communication...her audits where able to pick up ever shift of his weight, every beat of his wretchedly black heart.

Agressivly she slashed her whipcord upon her hind pillars, how weak and fine boned she seamed, but hardy she was. Her slates focused upon the brute once again. For the plot of the lands had changed...

[Blah no muse lol]

[anauma]

He spat in the grass the blood that had streamed from his neck before. This blood had collected into some kind of pus and he had had to spit it out. He pondered the taste of blood. Sharp, strong, almost venomous. With a sort of metallic flavor to it, it was. He felt her eyes burning through him. Immediately he felt foolish. Grazing was like bowing to a superior. She was no superior! He would have to raise her head higher than hers in order to become a superior, yet he felt this mare would not stand for it.

He raised his head so that he appeared the same height as this femme. He did not lower it nor heighten it. They were equals.

He bared his teeth and a slight hiss escaped from in between his enamels. Then both ears flicked back. These signs combined were a commonly used sign. A sign that meant, "You cannot overrule me, and I cannot overrule you. Make any attempt to overrule me, and I will overrule you." She was to repeat these signs if she wished this to be so. It was a double promise. If he tried to tell her to do something without her consent or raised his head above hers, she would be able to become the alpha, he the simple slave like many mares. And the same way vice versa.

[kudos]

I saw
I came
I sacrificed...[/s]

Her small audits picked up his 'signals'. Understanding the double meaning her own audits, body positioning and general expressions said back to the brute, " Aye... You cannot overrule me, and I cannot overrule you..."She hesitantly said the last part of her commitment, for this was it. They would now be bound together," Make any attempt to overrule me, and I will overrule you."

Her bodice ramained motionless. She usually was not committed to anything, nor anyone. Then again she had never had to be. At least not until she entered the lands of Lemorsea. She had been free to do as she wished. Not that it mattered. What was life withought the other darks to conspire with, to taste the blood of lights with.

The vixens small audits laced upon her crown. Her history was not kind to her, then once again, it wasn't an easy path to find the rightful ways of the darks. Her slates once more bore into the stallion, not disrespectfully, for they where now equels, but almost in question. She had not heard much of the brutes ways...his past. But nor had he heard much of hers. Secrecy was always the ways of the darks it seemed.

The vixen took a slightly hesitant step forward, with her fore dagger slicing cleanly through the stench of oxygen and pungent peat. Her dial held at his level, not wanting to push the brutes patience. Inwardly she smiled, for how she would love to push the lowly slave like mares of lower status over the edge, to watch them kill themselves before her. Sacrificing themselves for her and the brute. To watch them fight to the death, to watch them batter each other with jagged daggers slicing each others flesh, veins and arteries, to watch a great rain of the metalic crimson liquid fall upon her and the brutes pelts.

[x anauma x]

Relaxed, he was about to graze when he saw the step. His eyes were startled--this mare had clearly stated before that she was not to be bossed around. What had happened? What was she doing? Confusion flooded his eyes as water would a lowly city. He did not back away, nor come forward. He could not solve this puzzle. Only out of curiousity he stayed silent. Any other day he would have talked, used signals...moved, at least. But now he was standing stock still, his eyes avoiding contact, as that was a challenge to any horse. In slight wonderment he studied the hills in the distance, his ears pricked alertly in case she stepped forward, back, moved...

[kudos]

Death acheived
Death escaped
Death is inevidable...

How deeply the brute did not understand the vixen that she was and would become. For the movement was not an agressive one, for if it had been it would have been so obvious...blood shed of course. A slight show of amusment crossed the vixens dark, mysterious slates, she, herself, loved confusment. Confusment to her sent anger through her veins and anger was her best friend, along with pain.

Her slates then took in the obviously deffensive movement, which was very discreet but none the less noticeable. Then from the corner of her blackened slates of hell came a slight blur of movement. She snapped her boa towards the movement only to find a lowly creature with long ears, hopping along like something withough importance. A sly, inward smile came across her mind as she thought of what to do with it. Should she feast upon its heavenly flesh? Hear it scream in pain and angrily squeel in a last attempt to scare the futile beast that had came upon it?

Slowly she turned her slates upon the brute...the decision was his,Shall we take it...taste our first kill together?

[anauma]

Gradually the confusion lessened and soon he watched her, watched her lean forward to look at the rabbit, glance at him, ask him the question. A small smile curved his lips, and in one quick jerky movement he had, with his hooves, crushed the foot of it. His smile grew wider as blood splattered his face. He held the rabbit still, writhing in agony and pain, his dark eyes turning bright and excited. He could hear the heartbeat of this creature, hear it quickening. After they were done with it the heartbeat would slow then cease to nothing. And that was exactly what he planned to do.

He jerked his head back and forth, ears pricking, then laying flat against his head, then facing forward toward the femme. The meaning couldn't be more clear--Would you like to do the honors? Would you like to kill it?

[kudos]

Pain began
Paind ended
Life started anew

The brute, in a quick movement, slammed his bodice, daggers and weight into the poor beast. It's wretched squeels and screams echoed thoughout the pugent swamplands. Its small beady slates searched rapidly for an escape. Its small little, useless, claws where flayling...trying to escape from the great beast that was now utop of it. Its breating came rapid and almost raspy, as thought it had began to give up hope of getting away.

Her slates bored into the wretched beads thats began to cloud over in pain. Sweet savourable pain. She, the lowly vixen would gladly trade spots with the wretched beast. To savour the great pain that would be cursing throught the nurons in the brain, sending impulses and adrenaline through the nervs and veins. The vixens maw began to salavate as she thought of fresh flesh, inards and the metalic liquid crimson.

The wench rose upon her hind daggers, throwing her fore daggers out into the stench of oxygen and carbon dioxide that surrounded them, that made up the atmosphere that supported them. A high pitched screech echoed through the valley's of pugent swamp.

She threw her fore bodice into the earth once more, her daggers sinking deeply into the peat. Her nares took in the great expanses of oxygen that lingered in the atmosphere. The great heaves expelled the carbon dioxide back into the atmosphere, for the plants to then convert into oxygen.

To kill would be a great pleasure.

A sly smirk played across her maw as her blackened slates rolled towards the beady like slates of the hare...Bloodshed would be her doing once more...

[Long lol I love typing ]

[xanaumax]

[ Sry for taking so long, I'll reply soon ]

[anauma]

The bloody rabbit wiggled beneath him,
still squealing and bleeding, barely alive.
He kept it down, waiting, smirking. He
could not wait. For that moment, for
death to come in his presence. He could
not wait. To kill would be a great
pleasure, she'd told him, and he
couldn't wait.

The blood spattered his forelegs and
he smiled as he licked it cleanly off.