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Post by Koosh on Jul 6, 2013 23:27:26 GMT -5
and if i claim to be a wise man, then it surely means that i don’t know.
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Anger pulsed, hot and undeniable, through his veins. In places it even manifested, streaking and flashing from his hooves and legs in the form of stark white sparks and electrical arcs. Flint-hard hooves slammed and cut the turf relentlessly as the stocky dun male danced a dangerous waltz over the windswept grasses of the peninsula. That he was in the sworn territory of a well-known, well-feared clan meant naught to him in his wordless rage; if anything it was something desirable. He’d almost welcome a feeling target for a sharp word or a brusque kick, for the loamy, damp earth was proving a poor target that only stirred his anger more vigorously.
Giving a sharply-twisting buck (which threw off a shower of hissing sparks), the bastard Fjord let out a short, frustrated bugle. Of course it would happen now, when he’d spent the better part of several days in an effort to find some semblance of control over his “gift.” Perhaps Azazel had been wrong. Sorely, sorely wrong, and the show on the beach was only a fluke. He froze abruptly, hooves grinding into the mashed grass as his mind delved inward in what he was sure would be another failed effort to wrangle with the writhing tendrils of magic that tickled and teased at every waking thought. Giving an audible grunt and a shake of his blocky head, Kalashnikov chased the ticklers with thought and will, feeling the tingling heat through every inch of his legs... but to no avail.
Screaming his frustration to the clouded sky, Kal’s thick torso jerked upward in a steep rear so he could thrash the air with legs suddenly aglow with sparks that snapped ferociously to match his temper. The sight of such an apparition, though, served only to incite him further; he sprang forward in a crackling jolt to sprint off along the edge of the dunes. Sparks arced out behind him, matching the flash of far-off Stormscome lightning while hooves pounded like deafening thunder into the increasingly sandy ground. Honey-brown eyes scarcely saw through eyelids, squinted as they were against the wind of his speed. Kalashnikov, though, could hardly care any less about his location, destination, or mode of passage. Naught made sense but for the feeling of hard earth beneath and wind in his face - that was enough for now.
word count;: 396 music;: Overture - Phantom of the Opera muse;: A little awkward at the end, but good! :3 tagged;: Grimm//Ayumi <3 [/font][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]
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Post by Deleted on Jul 13, 2013 0:32:21 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url('http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n87/Bai_MeiEr/tables/gri-02.png'); padding:0px 65px 0px 65px; text-align:justify;]» "Whoah there, tiger! What are you doing?" The voice rang out crisp and sharp like a whip, despite the light melodic ring that identified it clearly as female. The mare to whom it belonged stood up to her fetlocks in the salty brine of the sea, peering up the sandy dune at the spectacle unfolding before her. Her features were drawn into a rather perplexed expression, although the humor that had crept into her voice with the "tiger" remark showed itself in a small, slightly disbelieving smile on her lips. The sight before her was certainly odd enough to warrant some consideration of whether she wanted to smile or grimace, frown or laugh. The unfamiliar stallion himself was not particularly out of the ordinary, possessed of a stocky Fjord bodice adorned with with exotic forked markings and a multitude of scars. But he'd caught her eye with his angry displays of fury, punching out at invisible enemies with hooves and the occasional spark and crackle of lightning. At least he didn't seem to be directing his anger at her, although his presence in her territory was enough to guarantee Grimoire's involvement all the same.
» Giving her body a quick shake, canine-style, to rid herself of any excess moisture from the salty sea spray, the dappled Arab launched off at a rolling canter, piston legs propelling her up the gentle slope of the sand dune until she was at a comfortable distance from the stranger. Even closer up, he looked positively furious, and she kept a wary eye on those lightning-laced hooves of his in case he decided he'd rather have a live target to practice on instead of imaginary ones. "Has someone wronged you, that you are itching for a fight? Have you business with a member of the Selisona clan?" Ever the dutiful leader, that was her first reaction - to ensure that his crackling, sparking rage did not reach the mares and foals that had begun to populate her young clan. She trusted herself to be able to hold him off if the need arose, but perhaps trying some diplomacy first would help as well.
T A G » Kalashnikov {Koosh} M U S E » good! W O R D S » CCCLXII [362] S T A T U S » complete O O C C H A T » Tiger~ <3
C R E D I T S » all table codes belong to Ayumi of Aeon. do not use without permission! |
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Post by Koosh on Jul 13, 2013 0:59:31 GMT -5
and if i claim to be a wise man, then it surely means that i don’t know.
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At the very first crack of the stranger’s voice, Kalashnikov’s fitful display dropped to a sudden and full halt, all anger whisked away to be replaced with mixed surprise and curiosity. Legs gone leaden, he allowed all four heavy hooves - which were still steaming slightly from their sparking displays - to cut furrows into the sandy soil. A snort echoed out from his quivering and splayed nostrils. For half a heartbeat he saw nothing but the sand and the sea, but then something moved. A very graceful, effeminate something. It became immediately obvious as to why; the sleek mare making her way up the dune had a hide the color of a stormy sea, dappled lighter and darker with the faintest hint of a pearlescent sheen. In a way her looks matched her voice, with feminine appeal tempered by the keen lines and power lent of authority. A single glance was all it took for him to draw a good deal of knowledge, obtuse as he usually was:
This was not one to cross.
It seemed appropriate, then, for him to show at least some sign of apology for his previous display; it was plenty obvious from the wariness on her delicately-boned face that she’d seen the entire thing. With a steady slowness his crown dipped, neck arching in a bob of the head that showed a measure of deference. ‘Tiger,’ he recalled suddenly, ears flicking back and forth uneasily as his head rose once more. ‘She called me ‘tiger.’’ Huffing out a short breath, the Fjord waited for the arabesque female to finish her little speech before composing a reply. Intruding on his sense of manners, though, was the pervasive annoyance that tickled his mind. ‘Tiger?’ In the time he took to mull over his new nickname, the brusque femme had finished speaking, and now eyed him with a mix of speculation and what might have been amusement. “Excuse my theatrics,” he began, words rumbling out like the slow start of a timpani roll. “I was... upset. No, the only fight I seek is within myself.” As slow as his steady speech, a wry half-smile wrapped itself onto his nicked and marred mug.
Shaking a bit of his shaggy bicolored forelock from eyes the color of dark honey, the Fjord forged onward. “To tell it true I’d not even known that this was a clan territory. Again, forgive me. Selisona’s, you named it?” Each word was as deliberate and methodical as the rain against a stone, but the stallion’s eyes were far from dull or unfocused; instead they grew brighter as his mind riddled out who she may very well be. For his part Kal wasn’t necessarily the best judge of age, but it looked to him as though this mare was certainly well past the age of females to be flighty, or falling over every male that came a-calling. She had no foal afoot, though, and no nosy band stallion or mate had come rushing onto the scene to run him off with a bite and kick. Were they not in a clan territory, he’d’ve assumed her a wanderer, deliberately avoiding the ties of mate and child, but alas, they were in clan territory. Giving a slow tilt of the head - for it could be useful to appear even slower (and thus less of a threat) than he usually was - Kal let his brow furrow and lips push a string of words forward. “You’re a mare of that Clan, then?”
word count;: 585 music;: Masquerade / Why So Silent? - Phantom of the Opera muse;: Gooooooood. *^* tagged;: Grimm//Ayu [/font][/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/blockquote]
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Post by Deleted on Nov 22, 2013 2:32:39 GMT -5
[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=style, background-image:url('http://i110.photobucket.com/albums/n87/Bai_MeiEr/tables/gri-02.png'); padding:0px 65px 0px 65px; text-align:justify;]» Some of the guarded wariness about her person dropped away as the stallion himself relaxed those tense muscles of his, and she allowed herself to return a brief nod in acknowledgment of his polite gesture. It was comforting, to say the very least, to know that she was dealing with a reasonable and not entirely antagonistic individual rather than something like an angry madman. "Your... theatrics are excused," she responded mildly, one corner of her mouth pulling upward in a slight, wry grin to match his. "But tell me more about this 'internal fight' of yours." Casually she stepped a bit to the side and wound her way around to his left, letting her eyes rake over his form as she studied him critically. "You'll find I am gracious to my guests. Tell me about your troubles, and perhaps I will help." One ear flicked back to listen to him speak, and she swiveled her head just enough to shoot him an amused, rather sly smile over her shoulder. "Correct! This is the Peninsula, and I am a mare of Selisona - or rather, I am the mare of Selisona." Pivoting back around to face him properly, she introduced herself properly with the grandiose air of a performer welcoming her audience to the show. "Grimoire Heart; how may I help you?"
T A G » Kalashnikov {Koosh} M U S E » shot dead by midterms W O R D S » 221 [CCXXI] S T A T U S » complete O O C C H A T » Ew so ugly! DD: *runs and hides* So sorry dear! Hopefully things get better from here on out. x3
C R E D I T S » all table codes belong to Ayumi of Aeon. do not use without permission! |
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