08-18-2015, 01:47 PM
Life sucks. Let’s just get that out of the way. For some, the suckage is minimal and can be alleviated; for others, it is all encompassing and they are full of bad luck. Guess which category Belgarath falls into, and then guess which category these two ladies will fall into.
And by the way, he has a thing for the useless, the depressed, and the broken.
No one cares if he plays with them roughly, if he cracks something that already has faultlines; no one misses what they’ve never noticed.
There is something about the two mares that talk out of range that draws the stallion out of the shadows. Mostly just lazy right now, he has been content to watch and make fun of them in his mind, calling that one a cow, and the other a stick, and then just ogling the ladies with the pretty bits. His eye conveniently disregards the other stallions, as if they were just giant rocks blocking the scenery. It thrills him to know what he could do if he wanted to, but he’s been saving the ice for something special. The last couple of forays were disappointing (at best), and he’s sort of found a sadistic side. Power brings out the worst in people, corrupting the misogynistic and sexist bits into just plain old sadistic bits, regardless of who the victim(s) is.
Their bodies seem timid, one’s advance is tentative, even quivering - and Bel knows he has found his targets. The gray ghost, the ice ghost is not one that sneaks about, staring out from behind trees and disappearing from sight. The gray ghost announces his presence, his hooves are the heavy footprints on the empty floor above and the cold breath in the night. And it is getting colder, with frost that crystallizes the grass that grows around the twosome, perhaps starting to chill them from the bottom up. Belgarath approaches from behind white mare, one haunt forcefully taking control over the other. That happens, you know. A powerful demonic spirit can control others, make them do his bidding. He grins sinisterly.
Yellowed teeth scrape bluntly across the white’s flesh, trying to catch her, even if he has to take a step or two forward to catch her as she skitters out of reach. He chuckles in the back of his throat, a deep and and dark sounding noise. “Nowhere is safe, pet. This one is mine, now.”
Run along, dear, before the ghost gets you too.
[hiiiii
]
And by the way, he has a thing for the useless, the depressed, and the broken.
No one cares if he plays with them roughly, if he cracks something that already has faultlines; no one misses what they’ve never noticed.
There is something about the two mares that talk out of range that draws the stallion out of the shadows. Mostly just lazy right now, he has been content to watch and make fun of them in his mind, calling that one a cow, and the other a stick, and then just ogling the ladies with the pretty bits. His eye conveniently disregards the other stallions, as if they were just giant rocks blocking the scenery. It thrills him to know what he could do if he wanted to, but he’s been saving the ice for something special. The last couple of forays were disappointing (at best), and he’s sort of found a sadistic side. Power brings out the worst in people, corrupting the misogynistic and sexist bits into just plain old sadistic bits, regardless of who the victim(s) is.
Their bodies seem timid, one’s advance is tentative, even quivering - and Bel knows he has found his targets. The gray ghost, the ice ghost is not one that sneaks about, staring out from behind trees and disappearing from sight. The gray ghost announces his presence, his hooves are the heavy footprints on the empty floor above and the cold breath in the night. And it is getting colder, with frost that crystallizes the grass that grows around the twosome, perhaps starting to chill them from the bottom up. Belgarath approaches from behind white mare, one haunt forcefully taking control over the other. That happens, you know. A powerful demonic spirit can control others, make them do his bidding. He grins sinisterly.
Yellowed teeth scrape bluntly across the white’s flesh, trying to catch her, even if he has to take a step or two forward to catch her as she skitters out of reach. He chuckles in the back of his throat, a deep and and dark sounding noise. “Nowhere is safe, pet. This one is mine, now.”
Run along, dear, before the ghost gets you too.
[hiiiii
]