"But the dream, the echo, slips from him as quickly as he had found it and as consciousness comes to him (a slap and not the gentle waves of oceanic tides), it dissolves entirely. His muscles relax as the cold claims him again, as the numbness sets in, and when his grey eyes open, there’s nothing but the faint after burn of a dream often trod and never remembered." --Brigade, written by Laura
He was Chaos at it's worst. He could take a heart of a women and easily crush it to billions of shards and, never would all those pieces be found. He took a women like a dog took a bitch, loving and satisfied as any mare would be with him, he would soon end it in a matter of seconds. Crushing all of their dreams and desires in one huge sweep. Children? Hell no. He had none. No way in hell would he have children, he was never satisfied with the taste of mares. He wasn't a rapist. No he was something much worse, a virus. He caught all eyes of mares, he was your practical dream boy. He could begin as a day dream and become a women's worst nightmare. He was your classic bad-ass heartbreaker.
Cinder body swayed, as he boss-walked through the field catching glances and brief eye contact with multiple mares. Navy pools searched for those he could easily crush in seconds, as multiple mares kept throwing flirty glances in his direction. The field was supposed to be a place where you could find your "perfect home". For most it meant the immense amount of stallions patrolling the lot searching for herd whores to join their little flock. To others it meant, recruiting to move up the ranks in there glorious kingdoms. But please, lets be honest here he wasn't looking for just some kingdom, he was looking for the kingdom.
Something that would satisfy his needs, where he could have fun when he wanted to. Surely there had to be some place like that out there, right? His intentions weren't exactly evil, nor were they good, they were more for pleasure.
Smokey lobes swiveled, to the chattering rough and soft voices of both sex. Combined, all the voices seemed to override each other causing some to be louder than others, as horrible vocal chords clashed in unison everyone would pause for a second then continue their conversation. What kind of hell hole was this place?
Snorting, in slight annoyance the smokey boy sauntered over to a corner, at least he would have a bit of quiet and peace over here. Lordy was it always so chaotic? Shifting his body, to further analyze exactly how crowded it was. It allowed his nebula dorsal stripe to hit the sun allowing a glare for brief seconds, that soon fluttered away. Dark blue iris's shortly conclude after a brief glance around, that the place is crowded as much as the depths of tartarus was crowded with beasts. Why were there so many equine out and about? And did this many really are in need of homes?
What the hell, the place was like a massive sea of horses all crowded in little groups arguing and persuading each other. Surely he would soon become on of those horses that he thought so little of, and soon he will be in their place recruiting for some kingdom in order to move up in the ranks. All he had to do right now was wait, and wait. And then, they would come to him.
Oh, I'm sorry. Your tone implies that I'm actually supposed to care.
Go figure. Rhonan, actually serving a kingdom. Hell must have frozen over. But very slowly, the Valley was growing on him. Enough that it actually upset him (just a hair, he’s never really all that upset) that there were so few horses living in it. Enough that he just threw himself into the army even though he didn’t have half a clue how to fight, but it seemed more intuitive than talking, than all that crap about politics and diplomacy and being nice. Not that he intends to be mean, necessarily, but just that he doesn’t have enough social graces to know the damn difference.
Or care. He also just can’t be bothered. There’s that too.
The Valley is pathetically quiet, and so here he is. It’s easy enough for him to get here now that he’s mastered the finer points of teleporting in shadows. There are always shadows somewhere near enough to where he needs to be, and so one minute he’s in the Valley, and the next he’s in the Field.
Pop.
He grins slightly, thinking of Ana. Pop pop pop. Then he shakes his head, because now is not the time to be thinking of Ana, and then he plunges into the field.
Here’s the thing about Rhonan’s recruiting tactic. He doesn’t have one. So when he spots the stallion off in the corner, he goes that way, because it’s the first horse he sees. He stops far enough away for it to be considered polite, though more because he doesn’t like being that close to others than because he’s being polite, before saying “Rhonan, from the Valley.”
Cinder lobes fold gently upon each other as he catches the faint sound of shallow footsteps upon the slowly fading grass of summer. His smokey grey body, shifts to the vocals of a male, he would of preferred a female but he could easily finish a male, after all he was bisexual. Blackened tips of his tail lashed, as he whirled around his large build didn't stop him for a second. Deep navy pools, examined he paint boy as he quietly examined the stallion, he briefly thought of what to say. Perhaps something classy, added with a bit of comedy. Yes that was it. "Blayd. Blayd from now where." Wait....did I seriously just say that. Holy shit. That was like the worst pick up line ever. He sat speechless at what he had just spoke, what kind of equine was he to think of such a horrible pick up line? Seriously what the fuck? Rhonan probably thinks he's another scumbag from outside of Beqanna deeply pathetic, and extremely needy. Why the hell did he start it off like this.
Way to go dream-boy. He snorted, deep blue iris's adjusted to the moment, " Ummm.... Sorry for that." he rebounded, " Probably one of the worst pick up line ideas ever." Okay now he sounded gay, why was he digging his hole deeper. Shifting his weight awkwardly the stallion liked the feeling of this dead space, it was a good sign right?
Why the hell was he going in different directions driving this conversation not the ground slowly but steadily, soon he would hit bedrock. Jesus, was he really pushing towards being Gay? Yes he did like the taste of women yet, it was good to mix it up a little bit. Swaying his muscular neck, his body shifted once more, As he quietly waited for Rhonan to quickly save the conversation. Lord, and he better do it soon, he had already fucked up.
Oh, I'm sorry. Your tone implies that I'm actually supposed to care.
Rhonan, save a conversation? Never. He’s not really very capable of that. Luckily for Blayd, Rhonan is just sort of unphased by the boy’s initial conversation starter. He stays silent for a minute though, mostly trying to figure out if this boy would survive the Valley. The women there were rather likely to chew him up and spit him back out again. The stallions too, probably. Except Fennick, who’d make a joke or be dumbfounded enough to turn into a rock.
“Dude, if you just wanna flirt, I’ll leave. You should probably start a herd.” He pauses for a moment, waiting to see what the other will do. See, if Rhonan had social skills, he’d probably be better suited to reading cues and facial expressions. But he can’t. So he just waits for a response, because it’s about the only thing Rhonan can do.
Eventually, he finally figures he should add something. Because really, this is probably going to go down in history as the world’s most awkward conversation. The only think Rhonan’s managed to do to make it not even more awkward is that he clearly doesn’t seem to care about the advance. He doesn’t reciprocate. Rhonan’s head doesn’t even work like that, really. He sees shadows and non-shadows, and this stallion is not a shadow. This other stallion is not Ana, more specifically.
“If you want a place to join the ranks, work hard, and make something of yourself, then I can offer that.”
ge">Ashen lobes pin, was this stallion mistaking him as Gay? He shifted his body weight in slight annoyance, "No. I don't wish to flirt. Nor do I wish to become a pathetic herd stallion." he snapped bitterly. His tone had changed sharply, stretching out his hind legs he extended forwards. His posture changed stiffly, he had never held a posture as sharp nor wished to. Yet his instincts told him told hold it, navy pools greatly eyed the male.
Thinks had indeed become awkward, could it get any worse? Honestly he had hoped for someone with greater means of conversation to confront him. But this painted brute, held nothing against him so far. If indeed this brute was questioning if he was gay, things would get serious. Not just serious, but hostile.
Tossing his faded ebony forelock he snorted,"I do." he grinded his teeth silently.
Rhonan is actually about to leave. He’s not capable of this. Not even remotely. Guys, girls, it doesn’t matter. Social skills aren’t his forte, let alone dealing with some dude freaking out about being gay or bi or straight.
And then the dude decides to just be an ass, and Rhonan doesn’t even think about it. The shadows jump up around him, creating a wall between Blayd and Rhonan. He doesn’t more, nothing attacks, and it’s only when Blayd really doesn’t move again that Rhonan manages to relax. He doesn’t even mean to freak out about it, honestly, but the shadows seem to do their own thing some time.
They protect him. And after all the hell Rhonan has lived through, he doesn’t mind letting them.
The shadow wall falls away, and Rhonan’s face is a calm. But honestly, he really is calm. He never gets all that upset – he trusts the shadows to do their thing, and he mostly stands back and acts as a conductor. That’s what he is, after all. “Sometimes the shadows control me,” he says simply. It is a warning. Not an unkind one. No, rather it is terribly kind. It’s the best Rhonan can offer. He is too much one with the shadows to really be in control. He can only ask, and sometimes they listen.
“The Valley could use some good men.” Women too; Rhonan doesn’t discriminate. In this case men is the appropriate term though. “There’s plenty of power to be had there, if you’re interested. I can take you.”
His smokey Grey ears pin at the sight of shadows seeming to form an inky black wall, thick and sturdy as if protecting it's master, Rhonan. Confusion spreads like a plague throughout his mind as he stands speechless, staring through the transparent wall, where Rhonan was now faded in his vision. Blinking his Navy eyes, he stood quiet. He get's it. Being pathetic and annoying won't get him any where, by being a complete ass he had deeply annoyed the pinto brute.
Suddenly it topples down, disappearing into thin air. Blayd sides allow a deep exhale of relief as he heard the warning. Shadows? He can manipulate shadows? Confusion struck a his mind once more causing the thought of gay to be overpowered by does confusion. Retuning his attention to Rhonan, he seemed calmer, more at bliss than him. He had brought himself on edge by the fact of shadows could control someone's emotions.
Lobes placed in a neutral tone as he took a deep inhale then answered his invitation,"Take me." He replied, in a more serious tone. He had enough with fooling around with other equine for his own intentions of sex. It was time to do something for once, so he wasn't the pathetic stallion Rhonan had first come upon. But something different an reformed from his shitty attitude and pathetic doings.
I don't care about anything anymore
OCC: Sorry that took forever to post on my iPhone, anyways I'll wait for you to post in the valley.
