"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
This is Major Tom to Ground Control. I'm stepping through the door and I'm floating in a most peculiar way. And the stars look very different today. For here am I sitting in a tin can. Far above the world, Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do.
The lovely purple beast can not resist the temptation of spring. He simply must emulsify himself in the flowery scent embrace and rub himself against the wildflower broached bosom.
The dark amethyst male wanders aimlessly through the sea of blossoms, lips occasionally snagging at a few petals to coax a smile from within as deep purple pools gaze outward with a thoughtful expression. There were oodles of horses wandering about just as he. Some had company, some didn't. Some were napping quietly against sturdy trees or in pools of sunlight. Bowie couldn't help but notice how pretty his glittered mane and tail shown in the sun's gaze...jealous of how the stallion sparkled so.
The stocking limbs male halts not far off from the edge of the meadow so he may find a proper meal while the grasses remain mostly untouched. Perhaps afterward he would indulge himself in a little conversation. The make enjoyed his nomadic life...no home of his own...tied to no one. He remained just out of reach, ethereal. The long snowy tail from his hind end flickers over the deep purple of his hindquarters, bits of glitter left in it's wake as he raises his skull to peer outward, a few bits of tender grass poking from the whiskered mug.
As much as one could love the newfound beauty of the Coast, it was still good to get out and socialize. Or even just take a casual walk and watch the horses of Beqanna mill about. It was one of her favorite hobbies, though sitting within the trees and draping herself over a sturdy branch to watch the world go by was much more fun than doing so on the ground. But, as of right now, that was something she couldn't do. So she just keeps padding along.
As her hooves glided across the new grasses of the meadow, her thick rump swayed to and fro. A thick short tail swished and swatted at the newly emerging biting bugs, her short mane flicked about with the breeze. She was not the most tall woman, though her mother was a tall, thin Akhal-Teke, she ended up inheriting the pony features of her father, Atrox. Though she was still quite a nice picture, her dished head and curves were some of her best features. Though she was nothing compared to the creature her green eyes fell upon.
Her jaw practically hit the ground. "What....in the world.....is THAT?!" The dark queen was in awe....she had never seen such a flamboyantly colored and....glittery...creature. Though not just that....it was a boy. She watched silently as he brushed himself against sweet flower blossoms on the low tree branches. Naga couldn't get over him, his amethyst coat and deep purple eyes, and the curve of his deep smile as he pressed the flower petals to his lips. She shook her head, wondering if when she looked back he would just be gone, a figment of her imagination, but alas he was still there.
She walked toward him slowly, her green eyes wide. She wasn't sure how to approach him, she had no idea of what to say. But, she stood a few paces from him, her sultry deep voice full of curiosity.
"Um...excuse me? You are...dazzling. I am sorry, I just have never seen such gleaming hair. My name is Naga, Queen of the Coast, it's very nice to meet you."
She left it with that, waiting for her newfound sparkling acquaintance to speak. She wondered if his voice and personality would be as sparkling as his hair. She got a kick out of him, he was so pretty on the outside. She hoped it was on the inside. For stallions with no respect for women were the ones that really pushed her buttons.
This is Major Tom to Ground Control. I'm stepping through the door and I'm floating in a most peculiar way. And the stars look very different today. For here am I sitting in a tin can. Far above the world, Planet Earth is blue and there's nothing I can do.
The stallion proceeded with his merriment. The birds sang above him, a relentless chatter that brought forth a comfort that life had returned to Beqanna once again...there was a desire to turn the once scoured lands inhabitable again. The slick smirk that moves over the velvet muzzle does not sway when the shadow of another creeps in the corner of his violet eyes. Her scent gives her away long before she is even close enough to be seen but Bowie can taste her feminine pheromones, the heat of her skin, the wild tang that perfumes the air around her.
Her words break the spell that he cast in his small portion of the meadow but with a slow execution, the stallion pivots flawlessly to fully let his gaze fall on the dark woman. Her eyes are large and wet, curious of him, her tongue spooling compliments that would make any horse blush. The stallion is no different as long lashes fall over his amethyst eyes and he chuckles very low and soft in his throat as a tuft of snowy mane falls like a sparkling curtain. Bowie tosses it aside when he lifts his skull to once again meet the gaze of the minx and so he may capture her in the depths of his eyes. "You, my pet, are one of the loveliest specimens I believe Beqanna has ever created." He can not help but toss a small but deliberate wink in there. "I am Bowie, lovely Naga." His voice is like the slow crush of sand when the tide rolls in. It is slightly jagged, gravely. His eyes fasten to her as he articulates the words whilst watching her pretty features. "Now tell me, sweet child, what brings you from your shore front home to a meadow like this?" The rhythm of his voice speaks almost in a sing-song fashion as he moves to draw a few paces closer to the woman.
Bowie allows her to inhale his own scent and store it, if she should desire. The intoxication of fresh grass, honeysuckle, and fetching company was almost too perfect. The deep purple stallion tilts his head towards her ever so slightly as he listens for her reply with an unwavering gaze clasping to the green of her own.
