Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Nov 2, 2016 17:40:11 GMT -6
Time Flies When You're Having Rum
hah zom thinks she's clever
Ceto & Leviathan
Setting | A bar set in the Isles of the Dead, evening is just setting as some pirate crews are turning in for a well-needed rest and drink. Set in year 1699.
|
|
Deleted
Deleted Member
Posts: 0
|
Post by Deleted on Nov 2, 2016 18:31:30 GMT -6
The sun was slowly turning in, the moon begging to take its place. The sky turned from bright blues to deep reds and oranges stretching across its vast space, casting soft highlights on all who inhabited the Earth below. The salty scent of the ocean drifted across the breeze, tangling in the the ship's shimmering white, red-dipped sails. Her dark wood seemed to light up in the disappearing sun's rays, traveling from the intricately carved Cascade sculpture upon her bow and the golden scrawl of her name on the back: The Huntress.
She was captained by a scrap; a freckled mare by the name of Ceto. She appeared like a normal horse, her deep red coat freckled with dark dots and painted with minimalist markings. If once were to look again, however, they would see the soft fins that stretched across her crest, lined her shoulders and chin and belly, and tucked softly behind her front knees. Her thick reddened tail was covered by a banner of spotted flesh, hosting two twisting and curving tentacles, their suckers seeming to glow under the low light.
She was a hippocampus, child of Cascade in her own image.
She was superior.
She showed it in her walk and in her stance. Her bright red gaze holding judgement on all who passed. Her head was held high as she hopped from her docked ship, the falling sun on her back as the breeze played through her thin coat. Her gaze was set on her usual bar along side the docs, giving a glance back to her tied ship with a soft look in her gaze. The Huntress was her love, her life, her heart and soul. It showed her accomplishments and dedication, both past and future.
She let a soft sigh blow past her lips before her salt-cracked hooves moved toward the bar.
Pushing the doors open revealed only a partially full building. The mare's gaze bounced from each inhabitant, looking for someone she may recognize. Finding no one she cared to interact with, she moved straight to the front counter.
"Rum, leave the bottle." Her tone carried easily through the old joint, her thick accent twirling around her tongue and lacing her words. This often turned heads, and this evening was no different. Licking her lips, she gave a flirty grin to the stallions who looked her way before taking her drink from the bar tender and weaving between tables to find her usual seat; right by the window where she could just see the tip of her ship's bow.
Just where she liked it.
WC: 432 | Post #1 |
|
