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 Posted: Tue Jul 03, 2018 8:33 pm
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Rainfall the night before had led to Farrah taking shelter in a small grove, having intended to wait it out and instead falling into a deep, restful sleep. Dreams came and went, none so horrible as to disturb her until the very last, where she woke up to the sun peeking through the top of the makeshift thicket. For a few moments, she was confused. Where was her papa? Mother? The thicket was not her old one, and it held none of her parents' scent. A few more moments...and she remembered.
The young mare shook her head and buzzed her wings, ridding herself of not only the lingering dream-thoughts, but the memories that came with it as well. Barely away from foalhood, she had made excellent progress on her journey to the orchard she had heard her mother speak of so fondly. Surely the fire had caused her parents to go to them, right? Surely they had not actually perished, but had instead been waiting for her? The orchard she'd heard of was her last hope at this point; Her hooves were tired, she was hungry, and she was, in a way, scared.
Thirst was sated, however small, by lapping up the moisture from the leaves and plants. Dew-water was the sweetest, she would adamantly tell anyone who would listen, if not a short-lived solution. Hunger, however, had to wait. Though greenery was all around her, she still had trouble figuring out which she could eat safely, and which she would get sick from.
Wandering away from the thicket, she made her way. Way where? Way there.
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Posted: Wed Jul 18, 2018 3:57 pm
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 Her scent enveloped him as the rain poured, and he, taking his usual stroll through the shadows, decided to stay awhile. The soft crushing of leaves had been so delicate, so...intoxicating, he wondered if her physical presence was just as wonderful. The large stallion kept his distance, and as she stopped to wait out the rain, so too, did he. Many paces behind, he stood under a large tree and just listened. He knew if he had shown himself, she'd have gotten scared - they all do, and it wasn't much fun to always scare them away. It was much more fun to have a little bit of a game with himself before he did so.
As the night continued, Gravoir Mament found himself losing track of time, his thoughts filled wildly with images of this wondrous creature before him. He hadn't a clue what she looked like yet, so he had instead pictured it -- perhaps she was a princess, pretty in pink. Or perhaps she was a dainty tint of purple, covered in curls and flowers. He grinned. He had the pleasure of stalking many a mare, and each one was as enchanting as the one before, simply because they were so completely opposite of him. The stallion did not like them as themselves -- he didn't want to get to know them. He wanted to torture them - to make them fear him. He was enthralled with the very idea of scaring the innocent, and teaching them of the true horrors of this cruel world. He'd never kill any of them, as that went against his moral rules (pretty mares were for looking, not eating), but the mind games...oh, they were so worth it. Most of the mares he came across were easy targets, and he'd ruin their nights, or perhaps their weeks. He'd taunt them like bumps in the night, and they couldn't ever do anything about it.
This mare, was she to be his next victim? He pondered. She had likely fallen asleep, as the rain stopped and he heard little movement. Was it worth staying within the shadows, waiting, or shall he move on?
But night turned to day before his very eyes, and with that, hoof-steps. He listened, trying to determine the rhythm of the steps to see if it was the same creature. He couldn't quite tell...ah, heck with it. Follow it anyway!!
So follow he did, and when he spotted her, Like a moth to a flame, he watched her.
Her frame was small, that much he could tell, but he was a far enough distance away to where her detail was still a bit hazy. All he knew for sure was that she was absolutely breathtaking; she was a perfect target for his twisted mindset. His instincts the night before had not betrayed him, and for that he was delighted. Gravoir Mament continued walking behind her, careful not to make his heavy frame that noticeable as his hooves crunched the ground. He wondered how long it would take for his little game to be over, and if she'd notice him right away...they usually didn't, but he knew never to underestimate the opposite gender.
That one mare had proven herself a worthy competitor, and ever since, Gravoir had been captivated. It was a shame she hated him. He'd have loved to travel the rest of his days tormenting her. Their run-in had been short, but she was fiesty, and she never gave in to his games -- she never let his harsh words and cruel reality get her down. She was strong, and independent, and Gravoir was impressed.
Perhaps this little thing was similar?
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