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Trigger Warning  blue bloods
Shadow

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 Young Adult, 2-3 yrs  Stallion
 17.0 hh  1200 lbs
33 Posts 405 points
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Posted on Jan 15 2018, 6:47 PM. (Edited: Jan 15 2018, 6:54 PM by Caelian.)
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#1


pour salt into the wounds and let it bleed
Sand was a vile thing. It gets everywhere and is nearly impossible to get rid of, but wet sand is even worse. It sticks to everything, then dries and never seems to go away. These thoughts were circling through a freckled stallion’s conscience as he trotted down the huge strip of land, sand clinging desperately to his dark hooves. He was ever so thankful for his shorter tail, as it didn’t drag the ground.


Lean muscles rippled under a dark, freckled coat as the tall stallion made his way gracefully through the rocks and outcroppings on the beach. His athletic, slender frame caused him to look as if he flowed rather than moved. His wavy, obsidian-like tail bounced behind him as the wind picked up a bit and blew his mane into his crystal blue eyes. With a flick of his elegant snout, he threw his forelock out of his face and continued onwards. He had no destination, but that did not matter to him. He knew this land practically crawled with horses, and all he wanted was to be seen. He’d lived in the darkness long enough, and he hated it. It was time someone appreciated him.


These thoughts suddenly escaped his brain when he heard a crunch under his hoof. He stopped to look down and saw a broken shell under his foot and pinchers going limb. Strange that the small thing didn’t run from his presence, Caelian felt slightly bad for it. He sidestepped away from it, his right foot now splattered in blue blood up to the bottom of his fetlock. It didn’t bother him, however, and he continued on his way, slashing through the rolling waves as they barely reached where he trotted.


Caelian had heard stories of giant, spider-like crabs living on this beach, though they were rare and usually lived in the deeper parts of the water. They did occasionally make their ways to the sand strip, but only to protect their territory. He was not scared of them, but he was guessing if he just murdered one of their species, they might be a little less hesitant to crawl up out of the waters. He was curious about them, and wanted to see one with his own blue eyes.


It seemed as if they didn’t want to see him, though, and his infinitesimal wish was probably one of death. He had no idea how big, nor how dangerous, these crabs could be. He turned his head to look back behind him quickly, though all he saw was a score of seagulls fighting each other over the crab he had squashed. When he turned his head back with a quick sigh, he was surprised to see snappers quite near his nose. He nearly fell back, but kept his balance as his heart dropped. Recovering himself, he took a step back and regained himself as the thing was obviously pissed at him for some odd reason. He took another step back, but was surprised when the crab nearly snapped off his hoof. With agile speed, he picked his hoof out of the way and side-stepped quickly around the crab, but it was quick, as well. Either this was going to end in death or in cowardice when one of them ran. Caelian was not the cowardly type.


Already with crab blood on his hooves, literally, he was ready for anything. It was like a dance as they circled each other, ready for the first strike. The crab struck first, as would be customary. The crab was defending its territory and was trying to drive Caelian from the area, though the freckled horse would not go without a fight. There was an anger within him, an anger he didn’t know festered within him like a growing storm cloud. He had been a reject for most of his life, hidden in the shadows and alienated by all of society. This anger had been born when he realised what society was doing to him. As he lived, being drawn further and further into the shadows and his own thoughts, the wiring in his brain either altered or snapped. He was dangerous, slightly insane, and mad. But his goal for today was simple: find a horse. He had that deep sense of wanting to belong, and if he could develop any kind of relationship with a horse, be that friends or enemies, it would be good enough for him.


Too bad that goal was different now, as the crab had brought out his dark side. He nimbly escaped the crab’s attack, and stomped down on one of its spider-like legs. A crack sounded under his hoof, though he misjudged the tough shell of the crab and lost his balance, falling to the ground. One leg down, nine to go.


The crab quickly took its chance at his face and went for the eyes, though Caelian rolled across the sand and hopped up quickly. The crab still managed to hook a pincher on his nostril, however, and when Caelian got up, it ripped a gash in his nose. Pain and blood ran from his nose, but he shook it off. Red and blue blood fell to the sand, one from a horse and the other from a crab. The crab took its chance again, aiming for Caelian’s knee. The freckled stallion backed up quickly, but the crab was relentless and eventually got a gash and blood from the horse’s leg, as well.


By now, Caelian was tired of the crab. He didn’t have time for this, he simply wanted to find another equine. He charged the crab, risking his own flanks for the final strike. With his snout, he hit away the crabs giant pinchers, before rearing and bringing his front hooves down as hard as he could on the crabs head. Another crack sounded, and blue blood spurted all over his front. The crab went nearly limb, twitching every once in a while. He stepped off it, flipped it over, and stomped on it once more, being spurted with more blood. With a sigh, he backed away from it, sighing and closing his eyes. Turning away, he stood for a moment.


Caelian was nearly completely covered in blue blood, other than his left knee trickling red blood, as well as the right side of his nose. His face was splattered, as well as his neck and his chest. His front legs were nearly entirely covered, and his belly was also splattered. If anyone thought he looked insane before, no one would doubt twice now. He slowly turned back to the crab and walked past it as it leaked blood into the ocean. His thoughts were all but gone now, and he simply felt a sense of calm as he walked down the bay, his black tail movementless. Now, all he had to do was find the equines.
1318 WORDS FOR ANYONE ― umm, imagine this unless you dont want to see blood


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Posted on Jan 15 2018, 7:43 PM.
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#2



The sand was indeed vile. The bright redness of it - the sheer amount of colour - was disturbing. He was tempted to turn on his heels and head back to the dark fog of the ridges. Maybe he'd throw himself off the side of the cliffs there this time. Even if he didn't, the toxins in the air would consume him in time. They would gradually replace the air in his lungs with their poisonous fumes, and he would suffocate to an early death. Although, he only had seven hundred and two days left to live, give or take a few hours.

He wouldn't have left the ridges anyway, but Marco had forced him to. He had found his carcass, torn and burnt beyond recognition, splayed out on display on the rocky landscape. It had been the most beautiful sight he had seen in so long - but not because he had wanted to see his so-called friend dead. No, Grimm simply adored death. He watched he living, feeling like an outsider amongst them. But the dead couldn't chase him away. They greeted him like a long-lost lover, wrapping him in their cold embrace.

Death. He could sense it. It hung in the air, like a lingering scent that could only be removed with time and a good airing. But judging from the way it seemed to stand out to him, like leaping out from the depths of the earth like a geyser,  this was a fresh death. Possibly even one only just beginning.

There were stages of death. Different types of death. This one was fresh and sudden. Like the life was being drained through the escaping of essential life-fluid from main vessels. A fight, perhaps? Some poor creature had just lost. Some part of him was hoping to see another equine carcass. Those were stunning.

"Of course they are," Marco taunted in the recesses of his mind.

"Shut up," Grimm mumbled, working his skeletal jaws into a grinding of his exposed teeth. If he squinted his silver eyes enough, he could make out the charred face of his freckled bay companion in the shimmering of air only visible to his damaged mind. Damaged because he was doomed. Cursed by his half-life. You know, the one that left him with a closer affinity to the dead than the living and the seven-hundred-and-two days remaining.

Finally, he drew close enough to see carcass numero uno. There had to be a second, much larger one. Because this small, broken and fed upon crab was not large enough to make his senses tingle. This would barely cause a blip on his dead-dar. So, nudging it with a small hoof, the necromancer moved on.

Now, this was a find. The crustacean was an impressive size. Blue blood dripped from cracks in the exoskeleton, concluding what the monster had suspected. There had been a match between something in the crab - although, judging from the marks on the body, he could possibly find the victor to be of the equine species.

He was absorbed in scouring the blood splattered shell, blue fluids still dripping from the wounds. His skull head reached out to touch it, to brush against the liquid and let it stain him blue. He was mesmerized, a shiver of pleasure running down his body as the blood did just that. It dripped onto the tip of his skull muzzle, dripping down between the exposed nasal bones.

"You sick fuck," the strangely harsh tone of his usually soft friend struck him like a dagger. Grimm tore himself away from the body to stare into the dark eyes of his friend's spectre.

This is wrong. Marco shouldn't be able to materialize.

He shouldn't. Grimm shouldn't be staring into those deep brown eyes, dripping with lack of life. With stillness. Spirits didn't take form. They didn't haunt. This was wrong. Sure, they clung to their final duties for a few days. Grimm was only going through the motions to appease Marco-ghost while he could still cling to the In Between. But this was going too far.

When his silver eyes blinked above the exposed bone of his lower eye socket, the eyes were gone. He sighed a breath of relief, putting it down to simply being close to death again, but he wanted to get away all the same.

A few hesitant moments later, and a freckled stallion - splattered in the same blue life fluids of the crustacean - passed by. Caught a little off guard, not that he'd admit to it, Grimm simply stared for a moment. But again, Marco had something to say.

"Blood stained, covered in freckles. Looks like your kind of horse, murderer."

"Shut. Up." Grimm hissed aloud, utterly fed up with Marco's shit right now.

my halo is spun from barbed wire
OOC| Caelian



Shadow

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 Young Adult, 2-3 yrs  Stallion
 17.0 hh  1200 lbs
33 Posts 405 points
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Posted on Jan 15 2018, 10:25 PM.
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#3

pour salt into the wound and let it bleed
The freckled stallion was starting to breathe hard, harder than he would normally breathe, at least. What he had done began to sink in, and it disturbed him. His eyes widened and he looked down at himself, the blue blood soaking into his dark grey pelt, hiding the lighter tones of his coat. He flattened his ears to his head and clenched his teeth as a furrow grew in his brow, then a loud hiss broke through the air, and Caelian stopped mid-step.

He didn’t exactly turn his head. He turned his neck and let his snout point straight toward the ground, his ears angling toward the other horse. Did he just hiss shut up? For whatever reason, Caelian found this curious and flicked his eyes up toward the stallion, before turning his body. He was a distance away, and so he began walking slowly toward the other, his ears pinned to his head and his head high. He placed one hoof in front of the other, and the gentle flow of his elegant body much resembled the waves of the sea off Rimrock Bay. As he walked closer, his crystal blue eyes narrowed and he tilted his chin up ever so slightly, calling out ”Who are you and what are you doing here?”

Caelian could only imagine what he looked like. His slightly curving, spiral horns atop his head sharpened to a deadly point, his black, obsidian-like mane and tail blowing in the slightly breeze, and his dark coat completely covered in blood. Besides, his tone had been quite skeptical and demanding of the other horse.

The freckled stallion let this fade though as he examined the other stallion with a quick glance. The equine’s coat was mostly a dark blue, nearly black. His mane was extremely wiry, as was his tail. Silver looked as if it was dripped from his spine, and it was nearly blinding next to the black of his pelt. He also has the same silver in his eyes, and dripping out of his eyes. However, the most eye-catching thing about him was his face. It morphed from flesh into bone with two long fangs hanging down, causing him to look more like one to be feared. He looked as if he was neither dead or alive, and Caelian didn’t overlook the blue blood dripping down where his nose should’ve been.

This did not scare him, though. It might’ve been a mistake, but the freckled horse didn’t seem to fear like he used to. It was possibly because he had nothing to lose, though that was a dangerous way to live. Of course, he had his anxiety about not belonging, but he had already accepted that part about himself.

Besides, who would accept a monster? He knew what he was. He’d just killed a crab nearly for fun, but not entirely. He was almost completely covered in blood, and he had not a care in the world. At this thought, he suddenly remembered the blood on his nose, his own blood, and tasted it in his mouth. With a quick turn of his head, he spat it out into the sand and the water washed it away.

Something was wrong with him. This thoughts were scattered, he had to remember where he was and what he was doing, though not literally. He had to remember what he had been, his past, every small detail to retrace what he was now. He was intelligent, but he didn’t entirely feel like it at the moment. His eyes shot up to the horse before him, causing him to look out from under his brows, creating a slightly mad look. ”Do you enjoy death?”
801 WORDS FOR Grimm ― hmm usually when a char doesn’t know his own thoughts, that means i don't know the char’s personality


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Posted on Jan 16 2018, 4:19 AM.
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#4



As soon as the tall, dark and brooding stud opened his mouth - actually, before then if we were to rewind and step forward frame by frame and pinpoint the exact millisecond Grimm came to that conclusion - he decided he hated him. It was a simple gut instinct, a snap decision possibly fueled by the strain of being forced by some dead-ass ghoul to go an exploratory journey he hadn't wanted part of even when Marco had been alive.

Okay, no he didn't. Grimm couldn't feel emotions strong enough to actually hate the freckled man. Not could he feel the strain he claimed to feel. Rather, it was a slight dislike and a slight irritation at everything. No different to normal, basically. He just liked to exaggerate.

But still, the pompous ass didn't need to be so stuck up and demanding - especially when splattered with the blue blood of a crab. The tall frame, the pointed obsidian horns and splattering of blood labelling him a blue-blooded murderer (ha, see what I did there?) did absolutely nothing to stir up fear or intimidation in Grimm's gut. It may have done so in a normal creature, but the necromancer wasn't normal. He was hollowed out and stretched thin over that void where a soul should sit.

So, instead of simply answering like he should have, Grimm clucked his black tongue, the motion visible through the gaps in his bone jaws, and levelled a silver glare on the man's glacial eyes.

"Why? Do you own this beach, shitty brat?" he jibed with a tilt of his head. It was like Grimm was daring him to retort, daring him to answer with some act of violence. But Grimm was a pacifist and didn't enjoy fighting. He usually avoided it, but hell. He didn't like being pushed around. At least not when there was that minuscule spark of irritation in his chest driving him on.

Marco groaned in the back of his mind. He didn't approve, of course, of Grimm's response. He never did. Marco had one day sworn to turn Grimm's lack of social awareness - as the bay had called it - around and make him think before he spoke. Grimm didn't care. He had no filter and didn't want one. What was the point? What was the point in anything?

His eyes flicked shut in his fucked up version of exasperation as that little spark twinged again in response to Marco, though.

"I said. Shut. Up. Marco."

"No. We've had this discussion - you need to learn when to hold your fu-"

"And I told you to mind your own fucking business fucking shitty freckle-face."

He broke himself away from the conversation he totally was not going to be having with Marco to face the obsidian-maned stranger again, who had just been eyeing up the lack of flesh on his skull. It wasn't even the typical equine skull he had, but rather some twisted version of a deer skull. Some kind of Musk deer, if he remembered correctly. Figures, his head could retain useless information like that and maintain the countdown of his lifespan - still at seven-hundred-and-two, by the way, just in case you were wondering - but it couldn't make itself useful and feel something for once.

Grimm wouldn't know what it was like to fit in anywhere. To belong. His mother had been a corpse dragged back to life for one last round with his desperate father, unwittingly resulting in his fucked up existence. Then, he'd been left to face the world and been screwed over by it when he worked out that he had half the amount of time to live that the rest of the brats in the playground had. Not that they ever spoke to him - they all took one glance at him and ran away screaming. Even his father had been a little fearful of his son's appearance. But, again. Grimm couldn't feel enough to care. He didn't hate, he just accepted. Although it irritated him.

The other equine turned his head away and spat more red into the already far too red landscape. Did I mention he was getting fed up with all the red? There was too much of it. Too much of the same colour - unless it was grey, of course - was bad for you. 

"Don't add to the red like that you twat," he sighed, speaking his thoughts out loud, "There's too much as it is."

The last question to leave the man's lips was one that caught his attention. It was the weirdest thing he'd heard in ages, and to the necromancer, it seemed like it had the most obvious answer in the world.

"Of course," the words were snorted and harsh, "Do you enjoy shitting?"

In his head, the questions required the same level of intelligence to answer. He'd keep it simple until pretty boy showed him a little more brain power in that head of his.

my halo is spun from barbed wire
OOC| Caelian Well, pissy characters seems to be my forte xD Also, the not knowing his own thougts actually suits Caelian :3



Rogue

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 Adult, 8½ yrs  Mare
 14.2 hh  900 lbs
10 Posts 140 points
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Posted on Jan 16 2018, 1:18 PM. (Edited: Jan 16 2018, 1:18 PM by Thelxepeia.)
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#5

Sapphire orbs looked over the lands of Elysium with a critical, analytical stare. She had not resided here long, at least not long enough to make a suitable name for herself, but already she was regarding the lands as hers. Eventually, the siren had been unceremoniously kicked out of Pantheon due to her less-than-favourable methods of running her herd. She’d later heard that it had turned to nothing but desolate wastelands promptly after her departure – good fucking riddance.
 
Though the sole reason for her exile was the despicable things she got up to in the Chimera Caverns, nothing had changed about Thelxepeia despite stumbling across the chance for a new beginning. I’ll say it time and time again: her heart is stone cold, not made of ice but of the purest white marble. There is no melting it, no manipulating it, no bribing or blackmailing it. She is what she is, a stone-hearted siren, and she would rather die than change who she is. The mare knew the most fun in life was the fun had from destruction, in particular the destruction of the masculine gender. The good-for-nothing scum were so entertaining to reel in and play with, allow them to bed her and then to send away with their tail between their legs and a few cuts and bruises to show for the ordeal. It’s all men were good for, really. Sex and reproduction, though she had no interest in the latter lest the child were to be brought up as evil as her, and then to watch cry as she breaks their heart – and their bones.
 
Already she had lain with two men and birthed two children from it – the foals were a small price to pay for the amusement she gained in torturing their fathers. One child had proven a ‘daddy’s girl princess type. Needless to say, Thel hadn’t seen her since the day she was born. The other was a perfect evil minion, though Pantheon took pity on her following her mother’s exile, and the siren later learned that her child suffered with Pantheon when it fell. She didn’t really care, though: while the filly was a useful companion in crime, the woman is incapable of feeling love even if it is meant to be directed at the fruits of her own womb. I told you, stone heart.
 
Argenteus twittered mischievously in her ear as they happened upon a pale golden bay populated mostly by small crabs. The occasional larger crustacean lurked closer to the shoreline, though the bay seemed unusually empty of creatures of the equestrian nature. The humming bird sat on Thelxepeia’s poll continued to clack his tongue against his beak, irritatingly refusing to speak actual words but still trying to attract her attention. She turned her head to where his noises seemed to be directed and knew immediately what it was he wanted her to see.
 
A little way down the coast was a black horned stallion, a fair degree larger than her own lithe figure, stamping quite aggressively on one of the larger crabs inhabiting the beach and appearing oddly satisfied as it catapulted blue blood all over his dark face. You might expect a cruel seductress such as Thel to be impressed by the act of cold-blooded murder, but rather she was amused by the patheticism of it. Why limit your ruthlessness to a simple crab when you could aim so much higher? ”What a stupid man,” she pointed at the bird on her back with amusement, far enough away as to not be heard by the man, too. Then something even more ridiculous happened: another man, much smaller and more on par with her own stature this time, approached, apparently muttering to himself although she couldn’t make out what he was saying, and… dipped his face in the blood of the crustacean corpse? Now this was just too much.
 
Considering her day made, Thelxepeia picked up a brisk trot and ventured closer to the pair of simple stallions who now seemed to be throwing pathetic votes of argument at each other. Argenteus flew over her head, a pale blur of humming blue and green appearing almost like a halo over her crown. She slowed her pace to a swinging walk a few paces away from the two, eventually stopping between them and arching a brow in the direction of the skull-faced beast who had last spoken. She couldn’t stifle a laugh at his words, allowing it to bubble through her lips with a somewhat-infectious sugar coated lilt.
 
”Now now boys, I hope I’m not interrupting anything,” she growled, her voice dripping with honey as her turquoise companion fluttered down to land on her haunch and watch the situation develop. She severely doubted either of these stallions were the sort to fawn over women or experience any sort of urge of that nature but still, they may surprise her, and nevertheless she would greatly enjoy watching them squirm beneath her thumb.
 
She turned now to the taller black stallion, the movement of her neck agonisingly slow as the flaxen strands of her mane fell one by one to decorate her left shoulder. ”So, you enjoy killing things a few hundred times smaller than you, huh? Fancy yourself a bit of a bad boy, hermano? her voice retained its seductive quality. It would be so much more entertaining if this man thought the flirtation in her timbre was honest and genuine, though perhaps the entertainment would only be had by herself and her hummingbird.

922 WORDS // Caelian & Grimm // pssht. she amuses me
thelxepeia is pretty X-rated: expect mature references, swearing and probably sex references in most posts
she's pretty open to fighting/being fought without my permission; mild powerplaying is fine, though ask first before seriously injuring,
i won't allow her to be killed, and she will fight back


Shadow

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 Young Adult, 2-3 yrs  Stallion
 17.0 hh  1200 lbs
33 Posts 405 points
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Posted on Jan 16 2018, 8:51 PM.
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#6

pour salt into the wound and let it bleed
The half-dead stallion’s strange behaviour only increased as the conversation went on. Caelian’s first question had been answered, even if it was a questionable response that the freckled one chose to ignore. The next words that left the were a repeat: shut up. However, this time a name had been mentioned, and Caelian’s ears flicked forward as his head leaned in a small bit, curious as to who ‘Marco’ was. Perhaps a friend, possibly dead as the shorter stallion seemed to be haunted by this creature.

The next sentence that floated out into the salty air was surprising as well as riveting. Caelian was a smart horse, or at least he was. This outburst couldn’t have been directed at him. This Marco, this ghost that haunted the blue-black steed, had to be of the freckled type, as well, but Caelian still found this remark stupidly impertinent, as it was supposed to be. He decided not to respond once more.

At Caelian’s spitting, he was called a ‘twat.’ His blue eyes rose gracefully once more to the skull-faced one and a smile broke his face, his teeth hidden. ”Would you rather have me spit it on you?” It was of the gentle tone, though hid a very small hint of a threat. Finally, Caelian’s last question was answered and another question was thrown back in his face, which nearly made him roll his eyes. This, however, he refrained from doing as movement caught the corner of his vision.

He turned his blue-eyed gaze on another approaching stranger, one of a dark chocolate. She held blue jewels on the bridge of her nose, as well as her rump. Her mane was the colour of flaxen and seemed soft and touchable. She stepped between the two of them and spoke with honey sweet words, strung with poison. Caelian also noticed her small height, though heights could always be deceiving.

Her decorated head slowly turned to his slender frame after she had scanned the stallion across from him, and eyes locked with his. The remark that left her lips almost made him laugh, yet he refrained as he dropped his head with a smile playing on his muzzle. He lifted his eyes after a moment, meeting her gaze once more. ”Interesting observation; I see you are smaller than I.” He slid a hoof toward, closer to her, though did not shift his body or position. This most likely wouldn’t threaten her, though he’d like to see what her reaction would be. Whatever the riposte, it would be amusing.
611 WORDS FOR Grimm AND thelxepeia ― it’s like the origin story of the bad guy. Plus this post is horrible xD


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Posted on Jan 18 2018, 12:12 AM.
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#7



The man didn't respond to him. Figures. Shitty stuck up bratty asshole. He was pissed off - well, again. He would have been if he could feel that level of emotion. But Grimm couldn't. So, really, he wasn't anything except frustrated with his lack of emotion. He was frustrated at everything to be honest.

Maybe that was why he swore so much. Why he got so pissy about everything. Because that was all he could do - Grimm couldn't exactly do anything worthwhile. He couldn't go out and fight for a cause. Couldn't swear fealty to something. Couldn't fall into step with some other living creature. He couldn't love. He couldn't be passionate about something. He could do nothing in the extremes. He was just stuck, floating through those last seven-hundred-and-two days, like he had done so with the last two-thousand-nine-hundred-and-forty-eight days of his life. His half-life. Because fuck, that's all it came down to in the end! He should hurry up and die, get it over with.

"Maybe you should."

"Yeah, Marco. Maybe I should. Then, I wouldn't have you on my back all the fucking time like some lump of bird crap."

"So eloquent."

"Yeah, I'm a motherfucking poet, ain't I?"

He didn't care! Not at all. Maybe that was one small mercy of his predicament. He didn't care. He didn't get attached to anyone. Anything. Anywhere. Nothing mattered at all. He had no hopes or dreams that got ripped away from him. No one could let him down. There was no sinking feeling when the world decided to pull the floor out from underneath his hooves. Absolutely nada.

Would you rather I spit on you? Was that a threat? But, even if he was spat on, Grimm wouldn't do a thing. He didn't have issues with his ego or his pride. He'd been spat on, kicked, pushed around. But it never gave anyone the satisfaction they were looking for. So, in the end, they just ignored him. Well, everyone but Marco. But Marco was some persistent bastard who didn't wouldn't know a lost cause even if it slapped him in the face.

"No," he said, matter-of-factly, "I'd rather you answer my questions, shitty brat. That, or keep your saliva inside your own body because frankly, it's fucking vile. The only time I wanna see your blood is when you're a corpse. At least then your company will be pleasant."

He meant it. Saliva was vile, his own body couldn't exactly produce it with the whole lack-of-skin-around-the-face thing. And, corpses were much better company. The dead never asked him questions. They all answered his. Except for Marco, of course.

Then there was another breathing creature. He shifted uncomfortably. Living, breathing creatures with full lives and not shitty half-lives made him unsteady. He always had this strangeness wash over him when more and more were around, like he was just some scavenger awaiting his next meal when one of them dropped dead. Because no one wanted to see him when they were alive, but once they were dead they were grateful for his presence.

She had the audacity to laugh at his words. His question, which could be equated to an are-you-really-that-stupid kind of question hade made her laugh. It felt like it was a personal blow. Except he couldn't feel that. His mind told him it should be, his gut just didn't do that strange clenching thing it was meant to. He simply snorted at the sound of her voice.

She stood at the same height as him, on the barrier between horse and pony, and she was chestnut. More fucking red. This was getting too much. If he didn't concentrate, her body would disappear into the landscape and he'd forget she was there entirely. At least the other man was smothered in the blue blood of the crab. Blue wasn't nearly as bad as red.

But he was being ignored for now. So, he stood and watched the exchange between mare and stallion, letting out a small huff of amusement.

my halo is spun from barbed wire



Rogue

Aggressor
 Adult, 8½ yrs  Mare
 14.2 hh  900 lbs
10 Posts 140 points
 BailanduSilueta Offline
Posted on Jan 20 2018, 10:52 PM. (Edited: Jan 24 2018, 12:14 AM by Thelxepeia.)
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#8

Oh, but she couldn’t have stumbled across any better a method of entertainment. These children were making her stomach roll with shrill laughter and she couldn’t help but let the witchy noise bubble through her sneering chestnut lips. For a while she wordlessly watched the exchange between the two men, her left eyebrow arched in mocking of their imbecilic conversation. This was the interaction between two either hilariously stupid or incredibly petty stallions, and served as one of the precise reasons why she didn’t often bother with their kind at all. Much less was she likely in the slightest to befriend them. 
 
The second of the two stallions, the skull faced beast who she’d watched unapologetically dip his face into crab blood like it was normal, seemed to be plagued by some sort of ghost from his past. She could only tell by the way he kept referencing Marco, Marco, fuck off Marco, shut up Marco. It was not the first time she’d come across a creature chased by his history, but that’s not to say she had any sympathy for them. Unless the ghouls of past lives were enough to drive their victim to utter evil insanity, she was not interested. Much like her disinterest in any other equine lest they have some contribution to make to her band of merry men. Such was her loyal group of ‘followers’ employed to do her bidding and flood evil through the lands of the now-departed Pantheon, in return for a roof – or rather, dripping cavern ceiling – over their heads and a temporary free pass from her own cruel deeds. She did not look back upon these times with regret, or fondness. They were the times of her most malicious doings, aye, but there was nothing to say that more malice could not come yet.
 
Argenteus nudged her left ear with his miniscule beak as the black, taller stallion began to direct words back in her direction. She had drifted momentarily away with a cruel sneer pulled still across her expression, and was mere moments away from letting the stag’s response pass without realising it. His reply, though, sounded like a threat, even though she suspected it was likely an empty one. Even if it wasn’t, she had nothing to fear in the man because she knew she could easily beat him back down. If not with seduction and the inevitable temptations stallions fall weak to, then with brute force and her overlooked wit and intelligence. She had won many a battle before, contrary to the expectations of the spectators, and held them proud to her name as if they were rosettes or trophies. The evil siren did not need physical evidence of her conquests and successes, but still they were something to incite a little fear in her future targets.
 
She laughed again, this time a little less of a shrill noise but deeper and sarcastic. ”Oh you poor man,” and her humming bird leapt noiselessly from his perch between her ears, flitting off to buzz in circles about the black man’s cranium. ”Are you suggesting you could kill me?” she, too, stepped forwards, closing the distance between them till her velvet maw was mere millimetres from his. From here, she could feel the soft tickle of breath with each exhalation he made, and she softened her own breathing to a low hum intended to vibrate gently through the skin of his nose. ”I would love to see you try” her muzzle pressed forwards even more, so that if he would allow it she would practically be touching her own skin to his.
 
In this position she paused a few long moments, letting the silence stretch out between the trio until it would inevitably make at least one of the strangers a little uncomfortable. If she could not make a bad impression in Elysium until at least she had inhabited it a few days longer, then she would find her fun in intimidating and psyching out the easiest subjects she could lay her eyes on.
 
Leaving the silence to throb a little longer than that border of discomfort, she tilts her head toward the other man, the one with the skull and the haunted bygone days. She watches him for a moment with an expression of feigned inquisition, though the sardonic glint in her eye suggests she is not so much interested in him as interested in making him squirm. Her voice is loose and ropey, stringing words together with tactical pauses to allow her hooves to step in his direction and her hips to swing left, right, left, right.
 
”Having a little trouble with a ghost, are we?” she continues to step around his form, close enough to brush skin at the shoulders and rump were he to not move away from her touch. ”Need momma to scare him away for you?” It was evident that the siren and the skull-faced creature were of a similar age, but she didn’t care exactly for the semantics of her berating. Thel completes a circuit of where the skeleton stallion is stood and faces him at a slight angle, ”Or are you not afraid that he might bite off your ears while you sleep? she speaks the last phrase while thrusting her head at the man and snapping her teeth with a loud clack. Argenteus twitters with amusement in response, bothering not to speak in her ear but flitting back to perch on the high-point of her rump, just above the first of the glittering blue sapphires embedded there.

Caelian & Grimm hehehehe
thelxepeia is pretty X-rated: expect mature references, swearing and probably sex references in most posts
she's pretty open to fighting/being fought without my permission; mild powerplaying is fine, though ask first before seriously injuring,
i won't allow her to be killed, and she will fight back


Shadow

Aggressor
 Young Adult, 2-3 yrs  Stallion
 17.0 hh  1200 lbs
33 Posts 405 points
 Flurry Offline
Posted on Jan 21 2018, 3:13 AM. (Edited: Jan 21 2018, 3:15 AM by Caelian.)
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#9

pour salt into the wound and let it bleed
The ghastly noise that emitted from the mouth of the pythoness echoed off the cliffs around the trio, playing in their ears like a broken record. With one equine quarrelling with an invisible force and the other laughing wickedly at their stupidity, Caelian found himself questioning the sanity of each individual standing on the beach, including himself. His life had been nothing but golden lanes and fancy parties before this, and now he stood, almost entirely covered in blood, his thoughts scattered beyond his reach. Roping these thoughts back in became almost impossible when the chestnut mare turned her head back to meet his cool, blue gaze. Her companion, a hummingbird, came back to circle around the freckled man’s head as she made her way easily over to him.

He nearly snorted in her face. She smelled of a foreign land, and her bittersweet words acted like claws in soft skin. Unfortunately for her, Caelian’s skin wasn’t as soft as she desired. Oh you poor man, rolled off her tongue with ease, and it made him smile, his brow furrowing ever so slightly. Her next words amused him greatly. The two equines were quite similar; overconfidence brimmed at the edge of each sentence said. However, the slender steed could see clearly that she believed either nothing could kill her, or her death would come by the hand of an equine she had yet to encounter.

As they gazed calmly into each other’s eyes, Caelian assumed she also believed in death by age, but someone such as she would most likely die a death much more dramatic than a simple passing. The mare took a step once more until the small gap between them was nearly nonexistent. The dark steed let his smile quirk upward slyly, his brow further furrowing. When she finally exhaled her last sentence, Caelian found his turn to speak, their skin so close to touching, yet never met. ”Sanctimonious,” he observed, his gaze cold and the smile nearly falling off his freckled face. ”Self-righteousness is never a desirable quality.” Neither was it an attractive one.

The jewelled mare fell into a throbbing silence, and the stallion joined her, their breath falling onto the other in a nearly irritable way. The waves of Rimrock Bay crashed nearby, creating a soothing background noise. Seagulls flapped overhead, squawking out a call every so often, and miniscule crabs lived out their daily lives. The buzz of the hummingbird’s wings joined the chorus, filling the forceful stillness. The dark steed pinned his ears, a smile returning to his face as her quietness continued, meant to be awkward. The effect was ruined, though, by the noise of everything around them. Caelian nearly broke it with a singular sentence, but remained in his own tranquility. Eventually, she turned to the skull-faced beast, adding his ghost to the deck of cards sitting out on the table.
She continually berated his stature with what he assumed were abhor words.

Shifting his weight, he watched with a stone cold gaze, all expression clean from his face. Eventually, she came to her last phrase, one that simply made Caelian smile and bite back a laugh. He flicked his crystal eyes out to the sea in a half eye roll. Priggish, slipped from his thoughts, though never exited his mouth. He’d have to say this ‘ghost’ would not be biting anyone’s ears off anytime soon. 

The freckled stallion brought his head back to their place on the beach, his head tilting ever-so-slightly to the left, his gaze showing boredom. He flicked his tongue between his teeth, so close to licking his lip, but not exactly touching it. Then, aligning his head once more, he ran his tongue along his teeth, watching them in silence. He would not intervene until he found the right time to do so, and now did not seem to be that time.
823 WORDS FOR Grimm AND thelxepeia ― im actually proud of this post


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Posted on Jan 21 2018, 4:15 AM.
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#10



The exchange between the nasty-red-chocolate mare and the freckled man was as amusing as he first suspected. Until, of course, freckle face didn’t bite back. Typical. Entertainment over, time to pack up and head home. Right? Right!? No. Of fucking course not. Marco wouldn’t let him leave, not yet. Not that there was much to go home to. Wherever he went it was the same. The same old story, the same old life-to-death, cradle-to-grave stories all over the place and no one really cared about anyone no matter how much they claimed otherwise. But hey, that’s life.

He quirked a brow above his bone plates as she stepped closer to freckle-face, their noses almost touching and he was certain they were sharing the same air right now. What, were they about to kiss or something? Disgusting. It would have creeped him out if it could have. He could imagine the way they shared the same breath and suppressed a shudder at the idea. It was moments like these he was thankful he didn’t have skin on his face, since it meant he wouldn’t have to put up with someone breathing all over him.

Some part of him was quietly chanting ‘fight fight fight’ in the back of his mind, and Grimm was hoping that would happen. He would like to see which one killed the other one. To see which one became another lifeless body he could poke. He’d pull their soul back into their body if he could and ask them to describe to him the pain they felt, the pitiful life they re-lived as their lungs collapsed at last. They would have to answer him, of course, the dead had to listen to necromancers. Sometimes, they were the only ones who did.

”So would I,” he mumbled, almost breathless from imagining watching them tear each other apart.

”Of course you would.”

”Marco…” he growled lowly into the non-silence stretching between the trio.

”You’re disgusting Grimm, did you know that?”

”Yeah. I did.”

”Then why don’t you do something about it?”

” Because, unlike you, I don’t have any fucks to give.”

”You’re wrong, I know you care.”

”No. I don’t.”

”Yes you do, you just pretend to be some unemotional robot because you can’t stand how fucking scared you are-”

”I SAID NO, MARCO,” his voice exploded into the quietness before he could hold it back. Grimm sucked in a breath, thankful that Marco decided now was a good time to drop back into silence. He’d touched a nerve there, and the ghost knew it. Of course he knew it, Marco had Grimm all mapped out.

But then the mare is moving, her hips swinging, but he couldn’t care less. He forced his body to remain still as she brushed against his shoulders and hind quarters, but didn’t suppress the disgusted shudder that ran through him at the gentle contact. It was vile and nauseating, the feeling of warm flesh against warm flesh. He definitely would prefer her company if she was a stone cold, blood drained corpse at his hooves. Maybe a few days old even, when rigor mortis began to set in…

Marco didn’t have time to butt into his thoughts this time as the mare beat him to it. He doesn’t restrain the snort that leaves his skull, jolting his head in that action typically present with any ‘are you serious right now?’ kind of response.

”As if,” he began, nasal voice flat but slightly amused, ”I am quite capable of taking care of Marco on my own. Besides, Mother-dearest wouldn’t be of any help. She is a corpse herself, after all.”

He named his mother with a distasteful tone, laced with sarcasm and a hint of bitterness. Her next words just plain confused him, why would a ghost try and bite his ears? That was just stupid. Grimm wasn’t given the chance to muse this too far as her jaws snapped forward towards him. On reflex the necromancer leaned himself away from her reach, face twisted into a disgusted ‘what the hell do you think you’re doing?’ kind of expression. His silver eyes narrowed onto her in an unwavering glare. Whatever kind of game she was trying to play was plain stupid. No, she was plain stupid. So was freckle-face over there who just watched the whole time. Had he forgotten how to speak or something?

”Pfft,” he spat out at her, ”How thick are you, shit-features? Ghosts can’t bite. They’re dead. You seem to be more interested in my ears than Marco is. You want them as a trophy or something?”

my halo is spun from barbed wire



Rogue

Aggressor
 Adult, 8½ yrs  Mare
 14.2 hh  900 lbs
10 Posts 140 points
 BailanduSilueta Offline
Posted on Jan 24 2018, 12:14 AM. (Edited: Jan 24 2018, 12:14 AM by Thelxepeia.)
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#11

It was likely the strangest interaction she'd had in her life, to say the very least. While the siren doubted either of the men in her company were children in the physical, literal sense, they very much seemed of a childlike calibre to her. The way they threw their words around like they were nothing, careless with the construction of their responses and so happy-go-lucky with curses and such suggested they perhaps retained mental ages of a few years younger than they in fact had beneath their respective belts. Thelxepeia was not the most gracious with colourful language herself, no, but she at least composed each of her snide remarks with a careful poise so as to reinforce the seductive, womanly nature of her acted character.

The moment of quiet calm between herself and the black man was almost eerie, but not quite. In actuality, something had to be quite fucking horrifying for the seductress to even consider herself mildly perturbed. She was yet to come across anything that had her so much as flinch and doubted such a time would come within her cruel life. The funny blue bird who accompanied her everywhere only served to perpetuate this belief - he believed himself just as indestructible as she did, and more often than not encouraged her maniacal feats rather than advised her of their risk. They were a pair more well suited than you could expect, particularly given the hummingbird is not the most evil-inclined of non equine creatures in the world, though it did not serve so well for the creatures in their quaking path.

She merely quirked the breath of a smile as this man sprawled desperately to dent her confidence with petty insults. For now she would leave his attempted offence unanswered, departing from him and so allowing him to contemplate the emptiness her lithe frame would create. The silence of the woman's departure was abruptly pulled to a close by the gentle mumblings of the second stallion, building laboriously to a crescendo which appeared to blanket the bay temporarily with an even more deafening hush. Though it lasted all of a millisecond, for both the seductress and her companion could not withhold the shrieks of laughter this outburst encouraged. 

"It appears, my dear, that this Marco," the smirk on her maw widened, "is the one taking care of you." and the skulled stallion pulled away from her snapping embrace with an unimpressed glare. Still her grin grew as she glared back, crystalline blue eyes still somehow glinting even as she failed to blink. This was far too fun.

"Now now, ears as a trophy.." she contemplated, tapping her front right hoof rhythmically on the sand as if to exaggerate the sarcasm to follow, "That sounds like a fun idea," and oh, she meant it. The two men surely could not be surprised by this, though you had to grant it to them they were unaware of the cave of bones she had acquired in her time in Pantheon. You might call her an avid collector, or... something of that general nature. Xepeia glanced down to her feet as one of the smaller of the crustacean species approached her pawing hoof. If a horse could've shrugged, she would, before stamping the same hoof over it and tilting her ears to the satisfying crunch of its shell. Nonchalantly, she pressed a little further towards the stallion once again. "I'm sure you would be willing to donate to such a worthy cause," her stare drifted for a moment to his ears before she stepped back and regarded the stallions as a twosome. 

Argenteus hopped to her feet and began to pick at the remains of the aquatic corpse as his companion spoke again to the taller, black man. "And you," her voice held onto its angelic qualities with distinct ease, "Are you so stupid as to think I should care?"

thelxepeia is pretty X-rated: expect mature references, swearing and probably sex references in most posts
she's pretty open to fighting/being fought without my permission; mild powerplaying is fine, though ask first before seriously injuring,
i won't allow her to be killed, and she will fight back


Shadow

Aggressor
 Young Adult, 2-3 yrs  Stallion
 17.0 hh  1200 lbs
33 Posts 405 points
 Flurry Offline
Posted on Jan 27 2018, 8:24 PM. (Edited: Jan 27 2018, 8:27 PM by Caelian.)
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#12

pour salt into the wound and let it bleed
Caelian took his time waiting for the maid to stop picking on the haunted stallion. When she finally turned back to him, snapping, he smiled with his perfect teeth, before taking a step forward. ”Oh no. I think you’re stupid not to care.” His non-existent eyebrows rose, before he slid toward again, sand sticking to his blood-covered hooves. ”You think you’re so glorious, it’s obvious. Everyone here is below you.” Another step, and he was nearly next to her, before the skeleton. ”I think it’s time you start picking on things your own size.” With his nose, he gestured to the crab she had nonchalantly squashed. ”I see you enjoy killing things a few thousand times smaller than yourself?”

He ripped his soul-eating blue eyes away from her and to the stallion, the one he had first met. He took a step forward once more, swishing his short tail, which nearly hit the maiden. However, it was too short and could not completely cover the distance. The freckled stallion turned and planted himself next to the skull-faced steed, his brow furrowing. Neither of these equines liked him, nor enjoyed him, but it did not bother the man. It was quite obvious the bone-faced man would choose the freckled steed’s side over the female’s.

Caelian was watching the chestnut mare when the air suddenly seemed to shimmer and the dark stallion felt cold. He shifted his weight uncomfortably, his eyes darting before furrowing his brow again and watching the maiden. He hadn’t been close to the other steed, but now they nearly stood side-by-side, and that ghost he’d been talking about was a little more real than Caelian had first acknowledged.
471 WORDS FOR thelxepeia AND Grimm ― im sorry this is so short and so bad. im sick and my brain isn’t thinking very well


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Posted on Feb 06 2018, 5:04 PM.
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#13


Grimm didn't compose his words because he couldn't care less. Like, literally couldn't care less. And he couldn't actually compose his words, even if he tried. There wasn't much space for a brain inside that roe deer skull and he knew it. Besides, corpses didn't care how blunt you were or what you called them. They were just happy with any company they could get.

He couldn't argue with her words. Marco always tried to look out for him. From that moment they first met, the freckled bay had stood by him and attempted to redirect the demi-corpse's half-life into greener pastures. But Grimm hadn't been interested then and sure as hell wasn't interested right now. Yet, he had let Marco direct him here and now Marco was still guiding him, a voice in his ear and a burnt figure in the corner of his eye.

This mare though, was fucked up. Possibly more fucked up and wrecked than he was, which was quite a feat actually. Then again, she was probably thinking the same thing about Grimm's sorry ass. Her eyes flicked down to the ground beside her before stamping her hoof down on one of those smaller crabs. Grimm simply crinkled one of his eyes in one of those 'u serious rn?' expressions. He didn't have any fear to feel, nor any fucks or shits to give about the murder of a crab in front of his eyes. Th corpse was a little small for his tastes when there was one of those larger ones close by.

His ears tilted backwards a little as he faced the mare again, silver eyes devoid of anything but disgust, hard and cold.

"Sorry shit-face, I ain't so generous," he replied, before shifting his attention back to freckle-face. The blood he was smothered in was collecting sand, making him a mix of red (gross), vibrant blue and black.

Oh, so the mare enjoyed killing things a thousand times smaller than herself? Well, Grimm was just about safe then. Lucky she was so small or his three-thousand-six-hundred-and-fifty day life would be cut short at two-thousand-nine-hundred-and-forty-eight. Now that would suck. Or would it? Death wasn't so bad, after all. Though, being taken out by some short-ass mare would sting.

"I bet it would," Marco quipped. Grimm simply sighed. Totally done with this shit right now.

Freckle-face got closer to him, standing by Grimm's side as if taking his side against this mare. Well, the necromancer was a pacifist and couldn't take sides, but if someone was to take his side, Grimm wouldn't say no to it.

my halo is spun from barbed wire



Rogue

Aggressor
 Adult, 8½ yrs  Mare
 14.2 hh  900 lbs
10 Posts 140 points
 BailanduSilueta Offline
Posted on Feb 10 2018, 3:02 PM.
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#14

She scoffed at the black stallion as he repeated her words, evidently lacking the creativity to come up with a retort on his own. She batted her eyelids at him as her sapphire orbs sparkled, returning his smile with a devilish expression of temptation. "Oh, sugar, you've got me all figured out don't you?""Mostly I enjoy killing things a few times larger," she bore her teeth, nibbling on the outside rim of his ear if he would not move away.

Then he moved, and so did she, following his attention as he directed it towards the other member of the peculiar group. She watched the black man's tail as it stopped just short of brushing her forelegs, and quirked a brow in amusement as it fell back against his limbs. She cast another glance at the larger stag, whether a glance of insane flirtation or harrowing warning it was unclear, before shrieking yet again at the skull's words. "Mind your language, boy," she howled at his petty display of aggression, watching with amused curiosity as he interacted quietly with his apparent ghost.

"Lucky for you I don't often work by basis of consent," she snarled, sauntering between the two men with a swish of her tail and the bat of a soft wink to the bony fellow. She strutted on a few steps, halting only momentarily with her back to the pair. She turned her head over her right shoulder, flashing a final smile at the strange men. Shame she was so new here or she would've taken great joy in having both their heads on a pike. It wasn't particularly that they had wronged her, or anything in fact. However, they were irritating and killing was quite fun. Argenteus twittered, swooping between the legs of the other creatures and intending to prod his sharp beak occasionally at their limbs. The siren watched, entertained, as the last honeyed words cooed from her chocolate lips. 

"It was a pleasure, boys," she began to stride again, the hummingbird halting his intended irritation and swooping over her head. "Keep an eye on those ears," she grinned, picking up her pace into a trot and making her way back down the beach. Should she meet them again it might present quite the hilarious situation, as if today's interaction was not laughable enough. Poor, clueless boys. It was oh-so evident they had no clue just quite who it was they had met. 

-Exit Thel- well this was fun ;D feel free to carry on without her lol, it's just not in her character to stick around too long

Caelian Grimm
thelxepeia is pretty X-rated: expect mature references, swearing and probably sex references in most posts
she's pretty open to fighting/being fought without my permission; mild powerplaying is fine, though ask first before seriously injuring,
i won't allow her to be killed, and she will fight back


Shadow

Aggressor
 Young Adult, 2-3 yrs  Stallion
 17.0 hh  1200 lbs
33 Posts 405 points
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Posted on Feb 14 2018, 6:27 PM.
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#15


pour salt into the wound and let it bleed
At thel’s first comment, Caelian turned up his nose and her and pinned his ears to his read, his brow thoroughly furrowing. He disliked this horse more and more by the second, and wondered when she would leave. When she howled at the skull-faced steed next to the freckled man, he found himself lowering his chin just slightly, eyeing her up as if she were a child. Then finally, she walked between the two, swishing her long tail, and her dreadful hummingbird pon followed her actions, poking at the limbs of the stallions. Caelian stamped his foot slightly, wondering how horrible it would be if he simply smashed the small bird into the red-hued sand.

Then finally, she made her exit, turning and trotting down the length of the beach. Caelian watched her with threat shining in his serious blue eyes, before he snorted and flashed a glance at dead-face next to him. His expression was all too plain, what in the actual world. He wasn’t as dirty mouthed as the one he stood next to.

After a few minuscule seconds, he stamped his feet and looked down at himself. Finally disgusted by his appearance, he turned without a word and took barely three steps to the water, getting the sticky, dry blood off his hooves, at least. It felt as if this meeting was over, and Caelian couldn’t find anything to say to the half-dead horse. He felt as though it was his turn to make his own exit.

He stood ankle deep in the slightly cold water, raising his chin just slightly once more, his expression plain. He had not forgotten his manners, drilled into him from hours upon hours of being around royals. ”As she said, it was a pleasure to meet you and… Marcus.” He nodded respectfully to the ‘pair,’ then turned and went up into a canter down through the water, letting the water splash and wipe away the blue stain upon his coat, letting it shine once more.
506 WORDS FOR Grimm ― i couldn’t think of anything to say


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Posted on Feb 23 2018, 7:18 PM.
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#16



She just kept laughing at him. And Freckle-face. But he didn't care so much about that. Then again, he didn't care to be someone's source of entertainment. Grimm didn't understand that. Why would anyone want to go out of their way to talk to people like that? Hell, why did anyone go out of their way to talk to people at all? Grimm figured half-lives would roll by much easier if no one spoke to him and he didn't speak to anyone in return.

His default expression was a glare and his skinless face slipped into it effortlessly. At least it wasn't his ears she nibbled on. And if she enjoyed killing things larger than herself then well. His pathetic hide was safe.

"Ain't nothing wrong with my language," he spat back at her, his voice flat but containing venom. Shit features would have been pissing him off far beyond his limits, if he could be pissed off. Had he not been a pacifist, his teeth would have snapped at her with his exposed jaws. But he couldn't and he was, so he just let it all drop.

She sauntered away between the two of them, throwing more words at the both of them. Grimm simply responded with an eye-roll, skeletal head shaking as he did so. The silver gaze then fell upon Freckle-face and he watched the taller man expectantly.

Freckle-face's expression read all too clearly 'What the fuck?' but Grimm's was a blank glare. Then, it was Marco's turn to be offended.

"It's Marco!" the ghost screeched in his mind, sending Grimm into a peal of laughter of his own. The sound was strange and unnatural, shaking the bone plates of his skull.

When it passed, Grimm spared one final glance to the crab carcasses scattered along the beach and stepped away.

my halo is spun from barbed wire
OOC| Caelian thelxepeia WHOO! DONE!





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