+- Beqanna (https://beqanna.com/forum)
+-- Forum: OOC (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=24)
+--- Forum: Archive (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=81)
+---- Forum: Lands (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=98)
+----- Forum: Loess (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=88)
+------ Forum: Sylva (https://beqanna.com/forum/forumdisplay.php?fid=90)
+------ Thread: sin for me, pretty girl||anyone really (/showthread.php?tid=16668)
sin for me, pretty girl||anyone really - w a r s k i n - 10-10-2017
He is a robust colt that had yet to venture from the meadow before yet but he seems to notice the internal compass that guides him to Sylva. His mother has gone off to who knows where but even his young mind and body do not yearn for her. She had been a beautiful creature but much like ice, cold and relentless. Warskin (the name she had given him) had only ever heard her utter the word 'Sylva' with a jut of her dark head, pale mane silhouetting her against the evening sky. War had returned the nod with equal callousness and they quietly parted ways.
He is the color of smoke after a fire has ripped through a loving home. His eyes nearly float against the charcoal with their pale blue-grey under the thickness of his growing mane. Sylva was a contrast to the little he know of Beqanna but he imagines there must be more. The boy had heard of Gryffen, his sire, dwelled her with a cruel eye and iron fist. Warskin knows this because horses talk loudly when they think children are playing. Had he ever really felt his foalhood slip away? How is it that he felt his own mortality in the slip of a sunset at his young age? War does not know but perhaps he is following the lead to something much greater. He damned his young body and bones quietly, watching as taller, stronger men moved around his lanky form with huffs and snorts. He narrows his eyes, remembering their faces and scents before trudging on, wondering what the man looked like that had contributed to his very existence.
Stars do not glint in his eyes. He moves with purpose and with an old soul already occupying his bones. His mother had groomed him to feel nothing, to see only a greatness that lay in the backdrop of his life sequence. These faces, these names, all paltry blips on a massive radar that spun for all existence. Who were the friendly watercrafts and who were the missiles?
Blip. Blip. Blip.
He is the color of smoke after a fire has ripped through a loving home. His eyes nearly float against the charcoal with their pale blue-grey under the thickness of his growing mane. Sylva was a contrast to the little he know of Beqanna but he imagines there must be more. The boy had heard of Gryffen, his sire, dwelled her with a cruel eye and iron fist. Warskin knows this because horses talk loudly when they think children are playing. Had he ever really felt his foalhood slip away? How is it that he felt his own mortality in the slip of a sunset at his young age? War does not know but perhaps he is following the lead to something much greater. He damned his young body and bones quietly, watching as taller, stronger men moved around his lanky form with huffs and snorts. He narrows his eyes, remembering their faces and scents before trudging on, wondering what the man looked like that had contributed to his very existence.
Stars do not glint in his eyes. He moves with purpose and with an old soul already occupying his bones. His mother had groomed him to feel nothing, to see only a greatness that lay in the backdrop of his life sequence. These faces, these names, all paltry blips on a massive radar that spun for all existence. Who were the friendly watercrafts and who were the missiles?
Blip. Blip. Blip.
w a r s k i n
(gryffen and karsi's little fuck trophy)
(gryffen and karsi's little fuck trophy)
RE: sin for me, pretty girl||anyone really - Kasanova - 10-11-2017
Kasanova
So I thought maybe(since I believe they are the same age?)... That they might have fun doing a mock or being trouble makers...?
RE: sin for me, pretty girl||anyone really - Gryffen - 10-15-2017
a ghost in the darkness.
The spawn he spits out into the world rarely mean much to him. Most are found to be lacking, their only worth as pawns in political schemes or used to force their mother’s to bend the knee. He has yet to create a child that actually deserved the title of his progeny. Zayn had been the only one to come close but he had flown to close to the sun and perished long before his father did. That child (created from the rape of the Gate’s Queen after he sacked her kingdom) had been close but was still far from satisfactory.
The memories of last autumn are a distant memory. Hazy and unimportant. It was the present he is focused on, of what’s to come. He was unaware that when he had planted his seed in Karsi (just another pretty face and alluring body to cast himself inside) that she had coveted it and raised it. Kasanova had not been his only child that year, the only son. There was another.
His red gaze is watchful from his spot beneath the broad hickory tree. Narrowed and focused on the two colts. One was familiar, remembering the silver glint of his skin in the dim light of Karaugh’s cave. The other was a stranger and yet… There is something that makes him watch closely. Something that brings the white wraith from his spot beneath the trees. ”You lost boy?” He growls as he closes in on the two, glancing from his son to the unknown colt. There is no touch of affection or glittering looks of approval for his child. If they wanted to be seen as worthy in his eyes, they would have to prove it.
The memories of last autumn are a distant memory. Hazy and unimportant. It was the present he is focused on, of what’s to come. He was unaware that when he had planted his seed in Karsi (just another pretty face and alluring body to cast himself inside) that she had coveted it and raised it. Kasanova had not been his only child that year, the only son. There was another.
His red gaze is watchful from his spot beneath the broad hickory tree. Narrowed and focused on the two colts. One was familiar, remembering the silver glint of his skin in the dim light of Karaugh’s cave. The other was a stranger and yet… There is something that makes him watch closely. Something that brings the white wraith from his spot beneath the trees. ”You lost boy?” He growls as he closes in on the two, glancing from his son to the unknown colt. There is no touch of affection or glittering looks of approval for his child. If they wanted to be seen as worthy in his eyes, they would have to prove it.
Gryffen
RE: sin for me, pretty girl||anyone really - w a r s k i n - 11-02-2017
The young stallion of ash and smoke is soon greeted by a another of similar age. He is a think silver strip as where War is smudged with charcoal and dirt. The dark eyes scrutinized as she is cautious but relaxes slightly when the other settles not far off. The male lifts a brow curiously as he settles into his hip. "Out for a walk?" The sharp caw of a crow causes him to jerk his head at a peculiar angle before the sight of a pale animal is creeping up to his left as to where the silver youth is on his right.
Eras flick forward as his expression remains flat even as the stallion bears down upon him, spitting words with glowing red eyes and an ugly sneer. "No, old man." It is all he cares to reply as he meets the man's eyes with his own, straightening himself. 'I'm looking for Gryffen." The younger horse does not care to offer the title of king nor indulge these residents in such manners. Karsi had not been the best mother.
His right eye slides to look at the other boy so there was not some sort of ambush before returning his gaze to the cream stallion with the bloody eyes. There was a tug in his gut-, "Are you him?" Warskin murmurs as he keeps an eye on the silver buckskin every so often just in case this man decided he wanted to act out on whatever aggression was boiling just below the surface of his porcelain mask.
Eras flick forward as his expression remains flat even as the stallion bears down upon him, spitting words with glowing red eyes and an ugly sneer. "No, old man." It is all he cares to reply as he meets the man's eyes with his own, straightening himself. 'I'm looking for Gryffen." The younger horse does not care to offer the title of king nor indulge these residents in such manners. Karsi had not been the best mother.
His right eye slides to look at the other boy so there was not some sort of ambush before returning his gaze to the cream stallion with the bloody eyes. There was a tug in his gut-, "Are you him?" Warskin murmurs as he keeps an eye on the silver buckskin every so often just in case this man decided he wanted to act out on whatever aggression was boiling just below the surface of his porcelain mask.
w a r s k i n
(gryffen and karsi's little fuck trophy)
(gryffen and karsi's little fuck trophy)
RE: sin for me, pretty girl||anyone really - Kasanova - 11-05-2017
Kasanova
@[w a r s k i n]
RE: sin for me, pretty girl||anyone really - Gryffen - 11-05-2017
a ghost in the darkness.
The strange colt has guts. It could quickly be his undoing. His silvery son is haughty but fails to be quite as insulting as the cocky colt who so quickly digs a barb at the King of Sylva. The sneer seems to deepen across his lips, sinking deeper and deeper as if the flesh is melting from his lips and only bone remains along his jawline. ”Old man huh.” He muses aloud, crimson iris’s darkening and narrowing in on Warskin. So many years had slipped by, was he starting to gray around the muzzle? Age was but a number, he had years to go before death would find him. And even if it did, he expects to turn death by its axis.
”And what do you want with Gryffen?” He asks innocently, toying with the boy and hoping his son is watching closely and learning something for once. This was a small tadpole floating in a very big and dangerous pond. The skeletal smile remains, ghostly and still as the fog rolls in around them. There is a strong desire to reach out and snap the boy’s neck. To feel his flesh cave beneath his blunted teeth and his hooves crunch against his young hollow bones. Simply for his disrespect.
However.
He would satisfy his curiosity first and find out why the fuck he showed up here to begin with. Perhaps he belonged to someone, perhaps he may be worth his while. And if not.
Snap
”And what do you want with Gryffen?” He asks innocently, toying with the boy and hoping his son is watching closely and learning something for once. This was a small tadpole floating in a very big and dangerous pond. The skeletal smile remains, ghostly and still as the fog rolls in around them. There is a strong desire to reach out and snap the boy’s neck. To feel his flesh cave beneath his blunted teeth and his hooves crunch against his young hollow bones. Simply for his disrespect.
However.
He would satisfy his curiosity first and find out why the fuck he showed up here to begin with. Perhaps he belonged to someone, perhaps he may be worth his while. And if not.
Snap
Gryffen
@[w a r s k i n] @[Kasanova]
RE: sin for me, pretty girl||anyone really - w a r s k i n - 11-06-2017
Warskin breathes a long sigh that is easily associated with frustration at the remark of the silver boy with the shifty eyes and accusing tone. They are but boys and War knows the other is attempting to assert himself except Warskin does not fucking care about what the other boys wants. Instead his eyes flick to the stallion.
Let down your smoke and mirrors.
There was a small curl to his young lips as he knows his little jab has struck a nerve somewhere deep in the spine of the wraith stallion. Still, War is too young to make the connection that the man is his sperm donor and typically it was a leader who sought out new faces and scents.
"I've come to introduce myself." His reply is cool and his tone drifting away from a haughty rift as he tilts his dark head with a little smirk. War decides to leave it at that as he passes another glance to the shiny colt. They are not too different in build (but most colts are typically the same leggy things) but the other is bright where War is the color of charcoal stained sin. The male is a creamy hued of curdled mare's milk and War is nearly certain this could not be his mother's lover.
Let down your smoke and mirrors.
There was a small curl to his young lips as he knows his little jab has struck a nerve somewhere deep in the spine of the wraith stallion. Still, War is too young to make the connection that the man is his sperm donor and typically it was a leader who sought out new faces and scents.
"I've come to introduce myself." His reply is cool and his tone drifting away from a haughty rift as he tilts his dark head with a little smirk. War decides to leave it at that as he passes another glance to the shiny colt. They are not too different in build (but most colts are typically the same leggy things) but the other is bright where War is the color of charcoal stained sin. The male is a creamy hued of curdled mare's milk and War is nearly certain this could not be his mother's lover.
w a r s k i n
(gryffen and karsi's little fuck trophy)
(gryffen and karsi's little fuck trophy)
RE: sin for me, pretty girl||anyone really - Kasanova - 11-07-2017
Kasanova
@[w a r s k i n] @[Gryffen]