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Wolf Web • View topic - It's Nothing That I Believe. {m} [open, see note]

It's Nothing That I Believe. {m} [open, see note]

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It's Nothing That I Believe. {m} [open, see note]

Postby ChandeliersMachina on Fri Nov 14, 2008 6:55 pm

OOC This roleplay is labeled mature for disturbing content (there is a major possibility that this may frighten you, and the chance of psychological disturbance is high. This roleplay will deal highly with matters that some may find discomposing, but that is the point of this forewarning: I warn you. Content is not innappropriate; it follows the rules. It will merely irk you if you are not careful in your analysis and comprehension. I ask that if you want to join, you be at least at the higher end of intermediate, more advanced. The paragraph minimum is approximately four paragraphs, and the rules of spelling and grammer are strictly enforced.

Be careful. The fate of your mental state of mind is at mind. Castille deals with objects of the paranormal, for he is a Skeletal. He travels from the world of the living to the world of the dead, existing in two forms, equine, and lupus. For the sake of roleplaying interest and entertainment, Castille has not yet realized that he is in fact a Skeletal. He has the ability, he has just not fully understood that it can happen at free will. Hence, the shadows morphing and taking over things and...well.... I'm not going to get into it now.

As of now, there is not necessarily a plot. Just go with it.
I want a herd of horses.
And I want them here.
So, my darlings...



There was nothing better than a good run. Nor was there such an awful thing as a good kick...From time to time, the sun that beat warmly down upon Shadow Bastion would decrease in intensity, and Castille found this to be the perfect opportunity to get to know his land again. As clouds drifted in from the surrounding lands, they patched the blue sky, landing patches of even cooler shade upon the plains this stallion called his own.

The nine-year-old Andalusian lunged himself forward, his steady, slow, four-beat walk dashing dangerously into a four-beat, deadly gallop. The sound of his feet moving beneath him in such a rhythmic pattern was the best sound he had ever heard. thud-thud-thud-thump...thud-thud-thud-thump...It was the most perfect sound that any creature could create, besides a scream in pleasure.

Black mane pulsed up and down with his steady gait, the wind whipping through it, running down his neck, over his back, down the sides of his barrel, finally down his legs and through his tail... Nothing could ever be better. This land was his to roam, it was his to do as he pleased...but there was one thing that always seemed to be missing. Something that he had always been able to have, to possess, and that was mares. These beautiful, lustful, but awfully temperamental creatures were the things he needed most. The things that would please him and assure him of himself...they would always, or always had been the ones to ease his stress. Every mare he had ever seen was always something to play with, something he could see and instantly want. But they were also something that would force him to change, something he only did for only a spare few. The few whom had actually cared about love and possessing such a rare artifact were the ones he truly needed...

The sun had refused to show itself from behind the light Gray clouds, and as the blood-bay stallion ceased his gallop to a slow easy trot, he could not help but lick his lips in the longing for water. Luckily enough, the watering hole of Shadow Bastion was just a few minutes trot away. And trot he did indeed. The tireless adrenaline from his quarter of an hour run, had only being to wear off, and for this he was glad. The sprint would do him good, but for now, all he really needed was water and shade, where he would drink, then pace, to allow himself to cool off.

But as he neared to water, his eyes flashed. The sun had finally unyielding himself from the shelter of the clouds. Castille could not help but look up, feeling that feeling again. He was being watched. Always. In this place, Shadow Bastion, he knew there was something else here, and it was seeping slowly into him. Though this was something he did not know. It was something he would never know. This soon well-mannered Andalusian stallion, an unnatural eighteen hands high at the withers, would be soon an unruly creature. A creature that only darkness would obey. A creature that only darkness and impurities of life would understand.

But for now, he was only Castille, heading for his drink...

OOC Entering: Castille

Chandelier's Machina: Keeper of light
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Location: Crossing the line in the sand, back and forth, over and over again.

Re: It's Nothing That I Believe. {m} [open, see note]

Postby Hebenon Vial on Tue Dec 02, 2008 9:34 pm

[ooc :: Our talk earlier of horses and the memory of your post made me want to rp a horse. Seeing as I DO in fact have one of sorts, I've pulled Dropsy out of uh JK hibernation. Don't ask me how this works, I don't feel like figuring out timeline and crap. He likely won't be staying.. He's kinda busy and such.. sounds like a fun thread though. Forgive my lack of horse knowledge if it happens to show <3]

The dark realm in which the young four-and-one-half month old colt found himself was a peculiar one. Pure white snow falling peacefully down onto a much more Hellish scene. The land was cracked and it was troubling to find a decent path. Within the cracks shot up red, burning flames that licked at the snowflakes, causing them to sizzle upon contact. It was odd in the fact that the snow did not melt until the moment it hit the fire despite the fact he could feel the warmth on his black body. The unsure, careful pattern of his steps as they echoed on the stone floor caused Dropsy to fall behind his companion quite a ways. The Thestral stallion before him did not seem to fear the flames and surely did not fear stumbling into them, Deceit was the creature the young colt admired to become.

He was strong, proud, and mostly bones. He was not silly, clumsy, and fat like Dropsy was. By all normal standards for equines, Dropsy was a healthy colt though perhaps a bit on the skinny side. But to Thestrals? Oh dear, well there was a difference of opinion. He was perhaps the fattest thing they had ever set eyes on! Apart from this, he was certainly the thorn in Deceit's side. Dropsy did not yet have control over when or where he jumped realms, which posed a large problem in the fact that when he did, Deceit never knew where to look! It ended with the stallion constantly angry with having to look after a troublesome colt of which he had no relation but instinctual need to protect and a colt who was embarrassed at his mistake. The grass beneath the colt's feet padded the sound of his steps as he sped up his pace to a more normal one.

Wait, what?

Grass where?

Ears twisted back in an unsure manner as he immediately stopped in his place, he stood just a little taller as his white eyes searched around him. "Not again..." There was something strange about this place too, a strange feeling about it. He inhaled deeply, exhaling in one hard huff of breath as the grey cheesecloth scarf around his neck swayed in what little breeze picked up across him. He shook starting his head and traveling down his neck, to his body, out through his wings, and ending with his left rear hoof causing it to lift off the ground and shake for a moment as his body became accustomed to the new temperature change. He replaced his leg instantly but only for a second before lifting again to turn himself around in another direction to check things out. Deceit was no where to be seen, but another was.

White eyes set upon the bay, the sun beating down for a momentary peek through the grey clouds above. It was a stallion though he was not nearly as gorgeous as Deceit was. He was fatter and in fact, he was fatter than Dropsy! This was no time for celebration though. Deceit was not here and a young colt was no match for whatever monsters this realm tried to throw at the tasty chubby thing. Dropsy dropped his wings to a hovering position about his sides in a failed attempt at making himself look larger and more formidable. Would this stallion be able to see him? He was not a Thestral. No wings, non-white eyes, the fact he was morbidly obese by his abnormal standards all pointed to that. As Castille was not such, there were only two other ways that Dropsy would be visible to the stallion. One; if he had killed or had a hand in killing one of his own kind. Or two; if he was dead himself.

Dropsy highly doubted it would be the latter.

Nevertheless, he approached with great caution. Slow paced steps brought him from around fifteen feet away to close in after some time, walking so slowly had a funny way of taking forever to get you to your destination after all. At one point, Dropsy tripped over a small lump in the ground as the natural world is never flat and he was so very clumsy, though he succeeded in catching himself quickly and regaining his original composure. His walk lead him to a place but a few feet away from the closest part of the male, which just so happened to be his right rump. Dropsy was very quiet despite the fact the other likely could not hear him anyway, if he could not see, he also could not hear after all.

If Castille was not able to see him, he wasn't missing out on much. The young colt was a very deep, sleek black in color. His mane stood on end though it was nearly too long to continue this trait and the very end had started to fall to the side. His swaying tail was short and quite wavy and his batlikes were large as carrying a horse was hard work and needed large appendages to achieve such a feat. The most prominent feature was probably the length of his legs, if one could call such long stilts legs! It was easy to mistake the Thestral for a creepy, winged Friesian. If one were to ask Dropsy what he thought of his appearance he would very truthfully tell about how he was fat and short but also how one day he would make a beautiful stallion. All the mares would love him, he would say. Not that finding a Thestral mare was an easy thing to do in the least. Then again, finding a Thestral anything was nearly impossible which was only aided by the fact they could jump realms.

It was how he had come here. It was how Deceit would eventually find him (he had faith in that!). But for now, Dropsy had decided Castille was not going to eat him. He moved his hooves in from his awkwardly open stance and carried his head higher. Batlike wings rose to reveal his previously shrouded sides as he carried himself pridefully because you see, one day he would be that beautiful heart breaking stallion. And, you see, Dropsy found little reason as to why that day couldn't start today. For just a little while, Deceit wasn't around to outshine him. He could play the pretty Thestral for a few moments.

Of course, it was all an act, all a game for him. Practice for the 'some day' around the corner.

Who knows. Just maybe that attitude would help him survive this accidental trip into the Realm of Wolves.
Murder most foul! Incestuous sheets! Hebenon vial! 'Twere madness discreet!
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Hebenon Vial
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