05-19-2018, 06:30 PM
[quote='Mosrael' pid='72897' dateline='1526568886']
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Arizonia|Macondo|Philosopher" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.mosrael_container{position:relative;width: 500px;background:#BFCBD0; border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #000;}.mosrael_image{position:relative;width: 500px;}.mosrael_name{position:relative;text-align: center; font: 60px 'Arizonia', cursive; color: #60945F; text-shadow: 1px 1px 5px #60945F;}.mosrael_quote{position:relative; width: 50%; text-align: center; font: 15px 'Macondo', cursive; color:#60945F; text-shadow: 1px 1px 5px #60945F; border-bottom: solid 1px rgba(96, 148, 95, 0.3);}.mosrael_container p {width:450px;padding-top: 15px; padding-bottom: 15px;}.mosrael_message{position:relative;text-align: justify;font: 14px 'Philosopher', sans-serif; color: #000; }</style><center><div class="mosrael_container"><div class="mosrael_name">Mosrael</div><div class="mosrael_quote">i'm way too<br>good at goodbyes</div><p class="mosrael_message">
Mosrael's aides heaved as she took a moment to consider the damage she'd done this far. The grassy arena almost fell silent as the two mare's stared each other down. Across the patchy span of brow ingestion greenery, Wishbone limped unsteadily as she sought to collect herself after Mosrael's sizable blow. Pain lingered in every step and she regretted to think that she'd been too rough with the green filly. Experience had taught her that amidst the struggle was not the time to assess one's wounds. That would be a job for later, submerged in the healing salt of the sea. Although tension shot through her body she forced herself to ignore it. Their's was only intended to be a short duel and she sensed the end was quickly approach.
Determined still, Wishbone pinned her gaze upon her appaloosa's counterpart once more. The sun was growing hot in the sky and Mosrael shifted her weight to alleviate her growing discomfort. Clinging close together the two remained quiet and, for a moment, she imagined that she could see the Nerinian strategizing her next move. However inexperienced she might have been, the filly had been an unexpected pleasure.
Shifting her position ever so slightly the mahogany framed horse ooriented herself at Mosrael's right side. Weary of her opponent's plans, she kept herself well out of reach - almost dancing in place. Her muscles were hot and ready as Wishbone threw herself upward. Her hooves only ever so slightly lifted from the ground before she allowed gravity to force her down once more. Mosrael charged forward, using blunt force in Hope's of throwing the filly off balance and they met with a bone jarring thud. She stumbled backwards, blinking away the tiny black dots clouding her vision. Half-blind she relied on her hearing to keep Wishbone's position known to her, though, without her sight, it was a notably more difficult task. Hoping for one final strike she popped one last buck, completely relying on the remainder of her senses before she galloped safely out of Wishbone's reach.
Finally over, Mosrael stood breathless as her body trembled with uncharacteristic fatigue. With her vision slowly returning to her she watched as Wishbone collected herself. Standing upon opposing sides once more, Mosrael considered the Nerinian. No, the Leviathan. Smiling she nodded approvingly before she slipped off the field.
</p><img class="mosrael_image" src="http://i65.tinypic.com/28rm6hg.png"></div></center>
Word count: 391
<link href="https://fonts.googleapis.com/css?family=Arizonia|Macondo|Philosopher" rel="stylesheet"><style type="text/css">.mosrael_container{position:relative;width: 500px;background:#BFCBD0; border-radius: 10px 10px 0px 0px; box-shadow: 0px 0px 5px #000;}.mosrael_image{position:relative;width: 500px;}.mosrael_name{position:relative;text-align: center; font: 60px 'Arizonia', cursive; color: #60945F; text-shadow: 1px 1px 5px #60945F;}.mosrael_quote{position:relative; width: 50%; text-align: center; font: 15px 'Macondo', cursive; color:#60945F; text-shadow: 1px 1px 5px #60945F; border-bottom: solid 1px rgba(96, 148, 95, 0.3);}.mosrael_container p {width:450px;padding-top: 15px; padding-bottom: 15px;}.mosrael_message{position:relative;text-align: justify;font: 14px 'Philosopher', sans-serif; color: #000; }</style><center><div class="mosrael_container"><div class="mosrael_name">Mosrael</div><div class="mosrael_quote">i'm way too<br>good at goodbyes</div><p class="mosrael_message">
Mosrael's aides heaved as she took a moment to consider the damage she'd done this far. The grassy arena almost fell silent as the two mare's stared each other down. Across the patchy span of brow ingestion greenery, Wishbone limped unsteadily as she sought to collect herself after Mosrael's sizable blow. Pain lingered in every step and she regretted to think that she'd been too rough with the green filly. Experience had taught her that amidst the struggle was not the time to assess one's wounds. That would be a job for later, submerged in the healing salt of the sea. Although tension shot through her body she forced herself to ignore it. Their's was only intended to be a short duel and she sensed the end was quickly approach.
Determined still, Wishbone pinned her gaze upon her appaloosa's counterpart once more. The sun was growing hot in the sky and Mosrael shifted her weight to alleviate her growing discomfort. Clinging close together the two remained quiet and, for a moment, she imagined that she could see the Nerinian strategizing her next move. However inexperienced she might have been, the filly had been an unexpected pleasure.
Shifting her position ever so slightly the mahogany framed horse ooriented herself at Mosrael's right side. Weary of her opponent's plans, she kept herself well out of reach - almost dancing in place. Her muscles were hot and ready as Wishbone threw herself upward. Her hooves only ever so slightly lifted from the ground before she allowed gravity to force her down once more. Mosrael charged forward, using blunt force in Hope's of throwing the filly off balance and they met with a bone jarring thud. She stumbled backwards, blinking away the tiny black dots clouding her vision. Half-blind she relied on her hearing to keep Wishbone's position known to her, though, without her sight, it was a notably more difficult task. Hoping for one final strike she popped one last buck, completely relying on the remainder of her senses before she galloped safely out of Wishbone's reach.
Finally over, Mosrael stood breathless as her body trembled with uncharacteristic fatigue. With her vision slowly returning to her she watched as Wishbone collected herself. Standing upon opposing sides once more, Mosrael considered the Nerinian. No, the Leviathan. Smiling she nodded approvingly before she slipped off the field.
</p><img class="mosrael_image" src="http://i65.tinypic.com/28rm6hg.png"></div></center>
Word count: 391