"...and every sinner a future." [eve]

[gleebee]

"Every saint has a past, and every sinner a future." Singing softly to himself, the young, somewhat lanky sooty buckskin sabino king sweeps across the edges of his land, gold-flecked chocolate eyes calculated, movements swift and smooth, legs a dark thick blur. The steady gentle drumming of raindrops patter against tropical grasses has receded to the background, soft, insistent. The jungle shifts around him, wet and comforting; fat droplets of crystal-clear liquid rolling down the bark and leaves and petals and down the side of the stallion, rolling in on themselves. Quiet recitations of favored phrases swirl out into the thick, slow breeze, cool and lilting."Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming." A huff of laughter blows itself away from the stag in a rolling white cloud.

He stops suddenly, stops while bracing his legs, for no apparent reason; but he appears to do so with the utmost urgency and peers down at whatever is barely in front of him. A short flower, slim moss green stem curved to one side so that you think it would grow sideways; but at the very last length, where the stem just barely grazes the moist, crumpling tropical soil, there is a drastic curl in about half a centimeter of shoot, another inch of slender axis and then a soft fragrant white blossom; with rounded, delicate petals curved ever so slightly outward, and long stems of golden pollen bursting outward. A sharp intake of breath from the stallion, and a soft smile. A whispering, musical and lilting. "Those who find ugly meanings in beautiful things are corrupt without being charming."

Refined golden head is jerked upwards, long legs extended with renewed confidence, and odd expression of authority on his face. Of course he can only wear this serious mask for so long and as he circles back around after a full circuit of the forest he throws down his cranium and begins to laugh, before forcing himself to straighten again as he trots deeper into the territory, tropical, speckled with exotic plants; and even so he chuckles quietly to himself.

[ForeverPain]

[atrb=border,0,true][atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=cellPadding,0,true][atrb=width,550,true]

[atrb=background, img803.imageshack.us/img803/5064/middleqh.jpg] Black lined kissers were shape in a frown as she drug her daggers in the mud. She was so tired from travelling from the home she had known all her life. The forests had burned and the prairies had become deserts. The second she had shown the signs of exhaustion her herd left her behind. They wanted to get where they were going not to mention the fact they needed to avoid predators. While she understood why they had done it the fact of the abandonment was still heavily on her mind. Her purple optics were open wide searching for any hint of movement while her pinnicles were erect for any noise heading her way. The only soft sounds of someone’s lyrics were heard but they were off a ways. Her hooves began to turn her in the other direction but it was quiet hard to find the way she had gone with the rain washing away hoof prints quickly. The femme frowned and snorted pawing at the muddied ground trying to guess which way to go. She turned quickly and began to trot listening to the faint sound of her hooves smacking into the muddy earth. That hadn’t been the intention but it look as though it would be a louder escape. She had begun to head deeper into the territory on her attempt to leave. She was a little to fearful to trust anyone or anything anymore. It would seem that everything was in one hell of a mood around this new land. She was afraid of what the stallion of this terra would be like. It was quickly that she found her hooves had betrayed her and led her face to face with the stallion. Automatically she stopped as quickly as possible but it wasn’t quite fast enough. Her shoulder rammed into his knocking her off balance to fall on her side. The femme snorted and quickly jerked her now muddied neck up trying to get up only to find that the mud was to slippery for an abrupt get up. ”Speeeeech!” Featuring;; Elff ll arabian x paso fino ll 3 years old ll 14.3 hh ll healer ll purple ll Born here, YEAR 1, SPRING ll southern Character Log;; click! Tags;; Who are you? Muse;; Not Terrible. Notes;; Do I have something to say? Credits;; Table by ME; all images are copyright to their rightful owners

[/size][/blockquote][/blockquote][/td][/tr][tr][td]

[/td][/tr][/table][/center]