Post by xxx sorrow on May 3, 2007 18:19:19 GMT -5
[Call Me]
{Sparrowfeather}
{She-cat}
[You've Known Me For]
{23 Moons}
[You Rate Me As]
{A Warrior}
{WhisperClan}
[Scarred With]
{One who appears to be a caramel/coal blend, with movements of grace and orbs of chocolate hazelnut that show only choosen emotion, for many can learn to hide their feelings from the world around them, even if known well by many. Besides why should anyone be predictable, so no surprise is given. Like an angel that lost her wings, fluid movements let her seemingly glide across the terrain with silent pawsteps. White having fought its way to form a circular pattern on her neck, she may not be that of a difficult appearence but she figures, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.}
[Feels]
{Wondering and thinking. There is no end, and can never be an end, to everything to puzzle over. For almost anything you can wonder about, there is no answer. And so what is the point to wondering, to thinking, to dreaming? There is none, but does that stop anyone? Not in the least. Wondering, and never knowing, is that not agonizing? Yes, but does it stop anyone, anything? No, not in the least and yet the world goes on while she sits, going by ones own perspective, everyone has an opinion and she will stick up for those she chooses to believe in, its a free world.}
[My Life]
{Can you really replace the ones you lose, or will you have to live on knowing their memories last, and they will almost live in your heart. But is that enough? Even if you loose a family, in who's eyes you were useless by any means? But to loose, a child, is one step to far. Knowing that your flesh and blood will never return to you no matter how hard you wish, and try. You can search and search, thinking maybe it was a mistake, that maybe they were only temporarily MIA. But yet one day the realization strikes you like a blow to the face and you know what reality is telling you, they are gone, forever. Yet, you still wonder if theres a chnace, a feeble chance they might be out there, somewhere, waiting for you.}
[Hear Me]
{The cloak of night draped itself over the alpine form progressing through the hills, tall grasses brushing ‘er pillars. Coal viperess sauntered through the fading twilight. Raven tresses whispering about ‘er arc, spurs of ebon pace silently through the unyielding terrain. Chasms ‘o cerulean flickering around the surroundings, watching for the mark of life. There were none upon this mountainous land - th' land sh’ so chose to wander, its sloping sides profoundly feared by the equine that passed through. 'er cranium lifted high 'pon 'er elegantly arched boa, nares dilating as to catch th' scent 'o any unwelcome intruder 'pon th’ loam. Th' surroundings were silent, th' only scent in th' air was th' stench 'o rotting matter. No other encroached 'pon 'er space. Pistons o’ brawn ceased their progression, keen gaze observing the firma. Deep from within the demoness rang a strident bellow, a warning to all who might even consider disturbing ‘er peace. Call lingered on frigid air for what seemed like an eternity, no echo in response given. The hellion began to pace the hills and flats, stepping nimbly o’er th’ rocks and various other obstacles as sh’ awaited any possible response. Azure globes retreated from staring into the night and the harlot lowered and extended ‘er zenith hellwards. Raising it the charcoal one reverted to ‘er previous vigil before stepping forth in’t th’ darkness, seeking a place ‘o peace deeper within this terrain.
Pillars carried ‘er forth in’t a silent glebe, soundless th’ area was, as still and quiet as death. The air ‘o th’ silent glebe was suddenly broken by th’ whistling tune of a cricket, or the buzz of an insect traveling near her ears. Vastly decorated with lush grass, each blade moon washed by the full globe illuminating the eerie nights features. And as if no such moon existed, a shadow plagued her form. A foreleg was outstretched, her pelt clinging as if there were no release to each rippling muscle bulging forth from ‘neath ‘er pelt, separated by scars where no charcoal fur grew. The transfixing silence of the night was broken by the unmistakable thud of a hoof, the grass quivering and folding under the massive weight; massive at least, for such an elegant and petite frame. And as if on que to this sound the clouds consumed the globe in the sky, devouring what light it provided. A cricket sang, but stopped as yet another flint pounded against the soft soil. The meadow was protected by a tin trunked forest, misty and transfixing to untrained eyes. A mucked pond lay home to three fish and a fat frog, who was silently watching this danger from the shelter of horsetail weeds. With each breeze the leaves and grass quivered; the night seemed shook by this beast's occupation in what could have been a peaceful glebe.
This was her time. A place with little or no distraction, a place of thought and solitude. As much as the demoness would enjoy bringing hell to life, this was a time of reflection. Slowly, her legs folded, and with some difficulty the mare lay in the grass while staring bitterly forward. Each well shaped dagger crushed the grass beneath it, and her pelt streached tightly over 'er sinewy muscles, accoustics sewn against her delicate cranium as th' mare shut 'er cold cerulean visionaries in thought.
Oh, one can spend their whole lives wondering, and what good would it do? There is no end, and can never be an end, to everything to puzzle over. For almost anything you can wonder about, there is no answer. And so what is the point to wondering, to thinking, to dreaming? There is none, but does that stop anyone? Not in the least. Wondering, and never knowing, is that not agonizing? Yes, but does it stop anyone, anything? No. And here I'm proof, wondering about wondering. I hate this. I prefer this to making useless statement to countless others, but I hate having no answers. Will I ever know the answers? Will I ever know what my true purpose in these lands is? Will I ever be sure?
Wondering and thinking were like sleeping - she wanted to stay awake so badly sometimes when she was younger, to explore the night, but her body did not have the same idea. It preferred to cease much of its movement and ship her mind off to dreamland to be chased my cougar and to side with wolves and wake up seconds before she wiped out every light on the planet. It was that same with her mind - she wished she could shut don't that part of her that had questions; wished she could live simply by instinct - eat, sleep, do as told. . . or not. Why wouldn't someone else take over thinking and do all the telling? It would be nice to go even a single day without the endless struggle to remember why sh’ was here, to remind ‘erself sh’ had a purpose. Sometimes sh’ wanted so badly to end it all – to slip from the seemingly endless life ‘o following and obeying where sh’ saw fit – th’ life ‘o a mare. th' bright, yet emotionless pits that were 'er ooids snapped open once more as sh’ stared moodily at th’ earth, striking out at it wrathfully with a single dagger from 'er position on th' earth, and all the time thinking to ‘erself, fighting an ongoing battle within. Sh’ couldn’t help wondering if th' gods had a plan in store for ‘er – something that would stimulate ‘er twisted mind, or if sh’ was simply a piece ‘o property waiting to be claimed, as sh’ had been with so many others – only there to be used and then tossed aside like a broken toy. Sh’ had followed ‘er sharp equine instincts here from far away lands, though sh’ couldn’t help but find ‘erself wondering. . .}
[My Family]
{My family has left me alone in this world, Coalspice and Chickenscratch are all I have left, may Sparkprisim rest in peace.}
[My Love]
{This creature has fallen for Chickenscratch, of which reasons are her own.}
{Sparrowfeather}
{She-cat}
[You've Known Me For]
{23 Moons}
[You Rate Me As]
{A Warrior}
{WhisperClan}
[Scarred With]
{One who appears to be a caramel/coal blend, with movements of grace and orbs of chocolate hazelnut that show only choosen emotion, for many can learn to hide their feelings from the world around them, even if known well by many. Besides why should anyone be predictable, so no surprise is given. Like an angel that lost her wings, fluid movements let her seemingly glide across the terrain with silent pawsteps. White having fought its way to form a circular pattern on her neck, she may not be that of a difficult appearence but she figures, beauty is in the eye of the beholder.}
[Feels]
{Wondering and thinking. There is no end, and can never be an end, to everything to puzzle over. For almost anything you can wonder about, there is no answer. And so what is the point to wondering, to thinking, to dreaming? There is none, but does that stop anyone? Not in the least. Wondering, and never knowing, is that not agonizing? Yes, but does it stop anyone, anything? No, not in the least and yet the world goes on while she sits, going by ones own perspective, everyone has an opinion and she will stick up for those she chooses to believe in, its a free world.}
[My Life]
{Can you really replace the ones you lose, or will you have to live on knowing their memories last, and they will almost live in your heart. But is that enough? Even if you loose a family, in who's eyes you were useless by any means? But to loose, a child, is one step to far. Knowing that your flesh and blood will never return to you no matter how hard you wish, and try. You can search and search, thinking maybe it was a mistake, that maybe they were only temporarily MIA. But yet one day the realization strikes you like a blow to the face and you know what reality is telling you, they are gone, forever. Yet, you still wonder if theres a chnace, a feeble chance they might be out there, somewhere, waiting for you.}
[Hear Me]
{The cloak of night draped itself over the alpine form progressing through the hills, tall grasses brushing ‘er pillars. Coal viperess sauntered through the fading twilight. Raven tresses whispering about ‘er arc, spurs of ebon pace silently through the unyielding terrain. Chasms ‘o cerulean flickering around the surroundings, watching for the mark of life. There were none upon this mountainous land - th' land sh’ so chose to wander, its sloping sides profoundly feared by the equine that passed through. 'er cranium lifted high 'pon 'er elegantly arched boa, nares dilating as to catch th' scent 'o any unwelcome intruder 'pon th’ loam. Th' surroundings were silent, th' only scent in th' air was th' stench 'o rotting matter. No other encroached 'pon 'er space. Pistons o’ brawn ceased their progression, keen gaze observing the firma. Deep from within the demoness rang a strident bellow, a warning to all who might even consider disturbing ‘er peace. Call lingered on frigid air for what seemed like an eternity, no echo in response given. The hellion began to pace the hills and flats, stepping nimbly o’er th’ rocks and various other obstacles as sh’ awaited any possible response. Azure globes retreated from staring into the night and the harlot lowered and extended ‘er zenith hellwards. Raising it the charcoal one reverted to ‘er previous vigil before stepping forth in’t th’ darkness, seeking a place ‘o peace deeper within this terrain.
Pillars carried ‘er forth in’t a silent glebe, soundless th’ area was, as still and quiet as death. The air ‘o th’ silent glebe was suddenly broken by th’ whistling tune of a cricket, or the buzz of an insect traveling near her ears. Vastly decorated with lush grass, each blade moon washed by the full globe illuminating the eerie nights features. And as if no such moon existed, a shadow plagued her form. A foreleg was outstretched, her pelt clinging as if there were no release to each rippling muscle bulging forth from ‘neath ‘er pelt, separated by scars where no charcoal fur grew. The transfixing silence of the night was broken by the unmistakable thud of a hoof, the grass quivering and folding under the massive weight; massive at least, for such an elegant and petite frame. And as if on que to this sound the clouds consumed the globe in the sky, devouring what light it provided. A cricket sang, but stopped as yet another flint pounded against the soft soil. The meadow was protected by a tin trunked forest, misty and transfixing to untrained eyes. A mucked pond lay home to three fish and a fat frog, who was silently watching this danger from the shelter of horsetail weeds. With each breeze the leaves and grass quivered; the night seemed shook by this beast's occupation in what could have been a peaceful glebe.
This was her time. A place with little or no distraction, a place of thought and solitude. As much as the demoness would enjoy bringing hell to life, this was a time of reflection. Slowly, her legs folded, and with some difficulty the mare lay in the grass while staring bitterly forward. Each well shaped dagger crushed the grass beneath it, and her pelt streached tightly over 'er sinewy muscles, accoustics sewn against her delicate cranium as th' mare shut 'er cold cerulean visionaries in thought.
Oh, one can spend their whole lives wondering, and what good would it do? There is no end, and can never be an end, to everything to puzzle over. For almost anything you can wonder about, there is no answer. And so what is the point to wondering, to thinking, to dreaming? There is none, but does that stop anyone? Not in the least. Wondering, and never knowing, is that not agonizing? Yes, but does it stop anyone, anything? No. And here I'm proof, wondering about wondering. I hate this. I prefer this to making useless statement to countless others, but I hate having no answers. Will I ever know the answers? Will I ever know what my true purpose in these lands is? Will I ever be sure?
Wondering and thinking were like sleeping - she wanted to stay awake so badly sometimes when she was younger, to explore the night, but her body did not have the same idea. It preferred to cease much of its movement and ship her mind off to dreamland to be chased my cougar and to side with wolves and wake up seconds before she wiped out every light on the planet. It was that same with her mind - she wished she could shut don't that part of her that had questions; wished she could live simply by instinct - eat, sleep, do as told. . . or not. Why wouldn't someone else take over thinking and do all the telling? It would be nice to go even a single day without the endless struggle to remember why sh’ was here, to remind ‘erself sh’ had a purpose. Sometimes sh’ wanted so badly to end it all – to slip from the seemingly endless life ‘o following and obeying where sh’ saw fit – th’ life ‘o a mare. th' bright, yet emotionless pits that were 'er ooids snapped open once more as sh’ stared moodily at th’ earth, striking out at it wrathfully with a single dagger from 'er position on th' earth, and all the time thinking to ‘erself, fighting an ongoing battle within. Sh’ couldn’t help wondering if th' gods had a plan in store for ‘er – something that would stimulate ‘er twisted mind, or if sh’ was simply a piece ‘o property waiting to be claimed, as sh’ had been with so many others – only there to be used and then tossed aside like a broken toy. Sh’ had followed ‘er sharp equine instincts here from far away lands, though sh’ couldn’t help but find ‘erself wondering. . .}
[My Family]
{My family has left me alone in this world, Coalspice and Chickenscratch are all I have left, may Sparkprisim rest in peace.}
[My Love]
{This creature has fallen for Chickenscratch, of which reasons are her own.}