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Post by LaBelleAnni on Oct 19, 2017 4:22:59 GMT -6
'Twas a dreary day in autumn, with temperatures dropping and the leaves falling off of trees. Mist covered the grass like a blanket, keeping the ground slightly more moist than in later afternoon. The sun hung in the sky above, blocked by dreary clouds over the town. Many commoners and soldiers walked along the roads, with merchants off to the side offering their goods. The warmth of pubs was tempting to those who passed by, especially an elder wondering by. With a determined gait he roamed along the rocky roads of Skeldr Town. His head held high with a dutiful perception to him, displaying pride and confidence with what he did. The brown buckskin huffed a breath out as he passed by many equines. Some looked at him as if he were possibly deranged. They most likely thought 'who would be roaming the day without a layer of warmth and protection?', and his answer to that would have been any stallion who respected their land and herd more than their own discomfort. Thankfully those that showed obvious judgement to his scarring kept their questions to themselves. No matter. Tasks were to be done that day, from patrolling the area to personal duties at the tavern, a day off per say. However that would have to wait, for he had to roam to the outskirts of the town, to make sure there were no threats out to get the town.
Since the last mission he had been on edge, what with the failure against the hooligans. Digend-lovers, they all were, hiding in the woods at night. The only thing they brought was destruction in their wake, and the scarring on the elderly buckskin was physical proof of that. The singing flames that once roared across his coat in battle left scarring that would never full heal, masking his right shoulder and the right side of his face. Each movement put stress on the wound, as did communication, however this didn't stop him from doing his duties. In fact, it pushed him to work harder, to work more, and thus his reason for patrolling that day. He felt a fool for not doing this more sooner, however there was nothing he could have done to change that. In a vexed train of thought he scanned the area with his eyes, looking around the area he walked, though kept his eyes trained on the treeline. Nothing was there, at least that's what he determined by his careful watch, and everyone would be fine. Eventually though, if the horses of this town ever fell into a troubling state with external forces he would aid them as soon as possible. This, frankly, was not going to happen for a long time, or at at any current moment in time. Cyrus still continued however in protecting close by merchants, before keeping his eyes on the road ahead.
WC: 481
Post #1
(will make this pretty later)
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Post by kaiyacksoda on Oct 19, 2017 9:23:54 GMT -6
Newt & Cricket
War-Forged Farmers
It had been a slow and surprisingly quiet trip down to Skeldr, and the two were already beginning to tire from their early rise that morning. Cricket seemed content to bee-bop along and take in the scenery, which gave Newt the chance to get lost in their own head for awhile. No thoughts in particular wondered through their mind, at least nothing of importance; a few songs, maybe a couple past conversations, but the simplicity and slight escapism from their everyday work was a relief.
True, they still toted along a small cart layered with root vegetables first, and then brightly topped with flowers, the last of the season, and a batch that Newt particularly liked. Not that they'd admit it. The plan was to drop the multiple pounds of vegetables off to a merchant in town, as well as the cart they pulled, as it actually belonged to the same merchant. A kind fellow who really was interested in their family's products, and out of their other twelve siblings, seemed to have taken a liking to the twins, which perhaps made him a bit odd. Though neither would complain, as it gave them a reasonable argument to head off the farm, and down to Skeldr. Julep - one of their brothers - had put up an impressive fight as to why they should go instead of Newt and Cricket, they were much more able-bodied after all, and didn't run as high a chance of tripping over each other's legs when pulling the cart, though in the end, their argument faltered.
The flowers, on the other hand, would be left up to the twins themselves, and would be sold out of the saddle bags tucked neatly around the traces of the cart.
As they walked with a rhythmic four-beat gait, contrary to their combination of legs - the two had learned to moved in unison from an early age, they had to, if they wanted to function at all - the streets begin to crowd more and more as they got deeper into town. Cricket's blue, bruised eyes wandering aimlessly from person to person, while Newt's gaze stayed on the path ahead. Cricket was sure to receive many stares back, given their current conjoined appearance, yet he lacked the attention to realize it. Newt had called this "a mere state of bliss" on more than one occasion, a form of innocence that was exhibited from one to many hits to the head. Newt, them-self, could never tolerate those stares, the judgement bothered them too much, sure, they'd stand up for the two of them if someone were to make a comment, but it was the quiet, unsaid sense of shrewdness that would eat away at them, if they gave it the chance. And so they preferred.. or tried, to ignore it by focusing on the task at hand, and that was to get this cart back to their familiar merchant.
But Cricket was already wandering, Newt could tell before he even opened his mouth, "W-wait." Cricket stuttered, and Newt had to refrain from rolling their eyes. "Do you see that stallion.. Look at the scar over his eye, h-he... He looks blind, like uh- Twitch!"
Newt just raised their brows and sent a thick look of un-amusement toward their brother, they were used to these kind of comments, yet it seems they had gotten so used to them that they didn't exactly notice how loud Cricket could actually be, which earned them a few more stares, though hopefully they had gone unnoticed by the scarred-stallion. As they didn't need another brute on their tail, especially when they had enough of those back home.
Post 1, WC: 609 |
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Post by LaBelleAnni on Oct 29, 2017 6:29:25 GMT -6
WARNING: SENSITIVE CONTENT
In a state of focus on the task at hand, the elder clicked his hooves along the path. His sword tapped against his barrel, sounding with a light clink that was almost silent, and especially drowned out by the bustle of the passing merchants, farmers, and other commoners that thrives on the land. Without a word he flattened his ears to the amount of noise there was and walked on. His irritation was clear as day, as it is hard for him to hide usually, not like he ever tried to hide it anyways.
Everything was bland as usual, with nothing too interesting happening in the town. There was no danger up ahead from what he saw, which he figured there would be none, however his mind was set on checking the area and so he moved on. One thing along the way distracted him. Well, two things. Passing by was a two headed colt, with four legs in the front. It was rather peculiar, not to mention freakish. They were odd, and surely not like the rest of Skeldr. Useless. He thought to himself as he continued on, looking over the times they carried on a cart along with them. Why any freak was ever trusted with such tasks as this, as carrying precious food as cargo. He rolled his eyes at the thought, almost chuckling at it. Surely they wouldn’t ever be more than a conjoined sideshow to look at.
Cyrus pushed on, resuming his focus on the road ahead of him and on the tasks at hand. Well, focus was held for mere seconds. Just as he figured he could move on with his day, it almost felt as if the colt heard him. The comment that came from the squirts mouth was infuriating, and he knew that they were talking about him with the descriptions they made about his scarring and blind eye. How dare this kid-thing insult him in public, especially in front of the public. Cyrus came to a slow halt, stomping his hoof down when he froze. It hit against the ground, then he lifted his leg and smacked his hoof down again. Two thunderous stomps, which surely turned heads. The others he had no cares about, since it was usual for others to stare when he blatantly showed aggression or dominance in front of them. The elder stallion turned his head to face the two, swiveling his head to the right so he could look at them. On his muzzle there were recent burn marks that lined against the side of his mouth. The same burn marks scraped against a small part of his neck, before leading to a wound that engulfed his shoulder. It was slowly healing, though for now he was left looking deformed on that side, which he didn’t care much about. Looks were the least of his worries.
With his good eye he glared at them, standing in a seemingly uncomfortable silence before breaking it up with his gruff, irritated tone and voice. “You think blindness is bad, kid? Huh? This is the pinnacle of deformation for you?” Cyrus angrily spat his words, slowly turning his body to face them fully. He flicked his tail behind him before stomping once more to keep the brat’s attention, though surely by now he would have had it. “I don’t think you’ve looked at yourself lately.” The elder scoffed, almost curling his lips to a grin though he held his position, held his expression.
Sure, maybe he was taking this too far, disrupting their day for a simple statement that a child said. Children, in his experience, had to learn through trial and error. This was their trial, and their grave error.
Word Count: 626
Post #2
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