09-08-2021, 04:05 PM
Encumbered by the weight of humidity, the bay Skandar moves carefully. Thick and rubbery leaves of jungle plants move away with the broad push of his chest, dampening his shoulders and hips, darkening him further as he travels deeper. The feeling of the moisture against his skin brings memories to his forefront, when the fat and broad leaves would slap against his face instead of his chest as he ran, blinded by anger and the insurmountable weight of loneliness despite being a colt in one of the most heavily populated kingdoms. He was forgotten and purposely so, tears streaking down his orange and indigo face as he would run until he couldn’t any longer.
The memory heightens Skandar’s emotions and in an attempt to quell the way it made his blood boil and his heart race, he grasps at magic that is not his. One that is familiar and comforting, used so often on himself that he only feels as if it is an extension, not a mere mimic of her ability to sense emotions. In doing so in this brief and barely conscious moment, Skandar feels an emotion that is not his own.
Curiosity.
He stops suddenly, throwing his head up wildly as his now dark and plain eyes peer through the dark jungle. He is quite certain it is the mare that Obscene had been looking for, her emotions close by. He turns his head left and right, uncertain how to follow emotion (was it even possible?). But instead, his concentration breaks at the sharp whistle that resounds through the jungle, the emotion slipping from the loose grip of his mind.
Skandar scowls, his eyes shadowed by a furrowed brow as he turns towards where he would find Obscene and his mother. He falls into place behind the woman, though it seems as though she is more than willing to come along with them. Skandar’s muscles grow tight beneath his auburn skin, shining with moisture from his searching through the sweltering jungle.
The stallion’s ears pin against his neck, snorting loudly as his dull gaze flickers to Obscene. The woman before him, frowning and possibly even confused, did not seem a bit curious at all. The realization settles against him with a cloak of cold, his eyes flashing a scarlet red with a silent warning that he hopes Obscene would understand.
Time to go.
He hated this place, somehow even more than he had moments before.
The memory heightens Skandar’s emotions and in an attempt to quell the way it made his blood boil and his heart race, he grasps at magic that is not his. One that is familiar and comforting, used so often on himself that he only feels as if it is an extension, not a mere mimic of her ability to sense emotions. In doing so in this brief and barely conscious moment, Skandar feels an emotion that is not his own.
Curiosity.
He stops suddenly, throwing his head up wildly as his now dark and plain eyes peer through the dark jungle. He is quite certain it is the mare that Obscene had been looking for, her emotions close by. He turns his head left and right, uncertain how to follow emotion (was it even possible?). But instead, his concentration breaks at the sharp whistle that resounds through the jungle, the emotion slipping from the loose grip of his mind.
Skandar scowls, his eyes shadowed by a furrowed brow as he turns towards where he would find Obscene and his mother. He falls into place behind the woman, though it seems as though she is more than willing to come along with them. Skandar’s muscles grow tight beneath his auburn skin, shining with moisture from his searching through the sweltering jungle.
The stallion’s ears pin against his neck, snorting loudly as his dull gaze flickers to Obscene. The woman before him, frowning and possibly even confused, did not seem a bit curious at all. The realization settles against him with a cloak of cold, his eyes flashing a scarlet red with a silent warning that he hopes Obscene would understand.
Time to go.
He hated this place, somehow even more than he had moments before.
skandar
i want to be the bullet
that brings you to your knees
@Obscene
@Gale