09-29-2021, 05:08 PM
He had never been to Loess.
The craggy canyons and mountain buttes never quite found him, despite the closeness in which its dryness brushes into the grasslands of what was once was his childhood home. He has no reason to have come here before and it had never occurred to him to do so; not until she had spoken of it, her voice heavy with secrets and a singular purpose for his visit. She gave him a name and a face - Cheri, an onyx mare dripping with crystal jade that frames the slender, pretty face of the new queen.
Skandar comes only to listen and to discover - there is no maliciousness in his intentions, despite the way he slides like a shadow between the stillness of the cactus and scrubs. The Pampas and Loess are allies, after all, but the stallion still cannot accept that anyone would enjoy his presence, as has been the case in each event in his past. For this reason, he abandons the constellations and the mixture of orange, violet, and indigo that marks him unique and intriguing, a sore thumb among the openness of the kingdom.
He cloaks himself in darkness, the ripple of his skin moving in a grotesque wave from nose to tail. Black as night, smooth and muscular, with gold splashed across his neck and face as if he had taken a stroll through the sun itself. It has become easier to mimic Obscene (spending so much time with the stallion made it simple, memorizing each part of his mannerisms and his features which are not so unlike his own) but he is certain there are parts of him that are unlike the true Prince of the Pampas. The red eyes, however, are perhaps the easiest part as Skandar has access naturally to such a bold gaze within his own abilities.
One who did not know the red-eyed stallion extremely well would easily look past that there is something not quite right, accepting without hesitancy that he is, in fact, Obscene. Perhaps someone close to him, one who studies each intricate part of the black stallion, would notice a flaw or two if they were to look too closely at the golden flecks that adorn his muscular chest and handsome face.
There is no way he’d be able to mimic the Fae that runs in the Prince’s blood and even to attempt to cover his body in glittering scales may prove to be too difficult to pull off, especially in the midst of conversating.
The sun’s brightness burns red and orange, a dying light as the unfamiliar landscape is bathed in the supple gold of sunset. Skandar’s now taller, heavier build forces the stallion to slow to a walk, unfamiliar with the way it feels on his bones. He halts before one of the salt springs, carrying his head high to gaze out across the vast canyons and craggy ledges that stretch out before him.
The craggy canyons and mountain buttes never quite found him, despite the closeness in which its dryness brushes into the grasslands of what was once was his childhood home. He has no reason to have come here before and it had never occurred to him to do so; not until she had spoken of it, her voice heavy with secrets and a singular purpose for his visit. She gave him a name and a face - Cheri, an onyx mare dripping with crystal jade that frames the slender, pretty face of the new queen.
Skandar comes only to listen and to discover - there is no maliciousness in his intentions, despite the way he slides like a shadow between the stillness of the cactus and scrubs. The Pampas and Loess are allies, after all, but the stallion still cannot accept that anyone would enjoy his presence, as has been the case in each event in his past. For this reason, he abandons the constellations and the mixture of orange, violet, and indigo that marks him unique and intriguing, a sore thumb among the openness of the kingdom.
He cloaks himself in darkness, the ripple of his skin moving in a grotesque wave from nose to tail. Black as night, smooth and muscular, with gold splashed across his neck and face as if he had taken a stroll through the sun itself. It has become easier to mimic Obscene (spending so much time with the stallion made it simple, memorizing each part of his mannerisms and his features which are not so unlike his own) but he is certain there are parts of him that are unlike the true Prince of the Pampas. The red eyes, however, are perhaps the easiest part as Skandar has access naturally to such a bold gaze within his own abilities.
One who did not know the red-eyed stallion extremely well would easily look past that there is something not quite right, accepting without hesitancy that he is, in fact, Obscene. Perhaps someone close to him, one who studies each intricate part of the black stallion, would notice a flaw or two if they were to look too closely at the golden flecks that adorn his muscular chest and handsome face.
There is no way he’d be able to mimic the Fae that runs in the Prince’s blood and even to attempt to cover his body in glittering scales may prove to be too difficult to pull off, especially in the midst of conversating.
The sun’s brightness burns red and orange, a dying light as the unfamiliar landscape is bathed in the supple gold of sunset. Skandar’s now taller, heavier build forces the stallion to slow to a walk, unfamiliar with the way it feels on his bones. He halts before one of the salt springs, carrying his head high to gaze out across the vast canyons and craggy ledges that stretch out before him.
skandar
i want to be the bullet
that brings you to your knees