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Post by enigmaoftheages on May 8, 2007 21:34:27 GMT
sic atrum con vir White light. Bitter winter sunlight out of time and season. It hurt his eyes, so pale. Out of place, out of time. A white horse in white light, winter in this autumn background. Wrong and unnatural. Divine and wrong. Pale eyes in a pale face, with an expression so white. Around him, trees shielded the dark from the unnatural winter sunlight, and he respected their vain wishes, straying through the cold glow, safe in the haven of winter's white embrace, appearing natural only in the malapropos light.
Strange, that white, the very crest of good and kindness and right, could be so bitterly cold. And he, light within light, with the face of an angel, could fit so very well in that icy embrace. venia est sic ferreus atrum angelus lucis everto seven male unknown white
homeless
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Post by echo on May 8, 2007 23:16:03 GMT
. . .Calligraphy is my name. . .
Dappled like stains from a summer rain, grey on grey, silver on silver. Glittering optics hid behind long albastor locks, cupped auds swivlling in they're sockets in search of a valuble hint.
His bod was sleek, but not light, most likey imbetween a morgan and something such as a hanoverian, but not many could be sure. He lay, amost with a tanquil air in the midst of the snow, off near the left, almost 100 meters from the trees, and within the bosom of a winter garden. Simple herbs lay at his feet, tall, short, pillared, or branched, leafy or sparse of leaves, green, or some even the palest of pine.
The sky had been growing over cast in the late afternoon, but the sun still managed to shine through, making the ice spires above gleam as though touched by angels.
speaking of the devil..
. . .You're my game. . .
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Post by enigmaoftheages on May 8, 2007 23:39:30 GMT
The white one's tender steps paused upon catching sight of his mysterious companion, and gently did carved marble ears fall back, doll blue eyes hiding shyly behind tendrils of icy forelock as his chin tucked timidly into his chest. Silently he stood, observing his fellow beast through a frothy sea of white tresses with glacier eyes.
The creature lay in stormy-sky brilliance within the blanket of snow, the earth at his feet dappled with plants, and indeed he appeared to play guardian for them, strong and quiet at his post. Misty clouds of white slipped from Angelus' pink nostrils as he let loose a sigh of breath he realized only now he'd been holding, and his pale flesh warmed beneath his snowy fur, spilling the faintest hint of rosy colour through his cheeks as he took in the other animal's steadfast form. His pearly tail swayed as his steps drew him to face the equine head on, unnerved and intrigued. The other's body was like none he'd seen before, with a long-limbed strength and stature, and a quiet grace within the gentle arch of an elegant nape and the soft S-curve of shoulder to back to rump, pulled supple in his current position. Angelus shivered, discovered he was staring, and jerked his gaze away with a soft squeak and further reddening of his cheeks, unable to find his voice to speak to the silent guardian.
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Post by Life Means Death_™ on May 9, 2007 6:35:38 GMT
(ick this thread woke up my muse! If you don't mind I'll post too ^^)
The French were bred to die for love They delight in fighting duels But I prefer a man who lives And gives expensive jewels A kiss on the hand may be quite continental But diamonds are a girl's best friend A kiss may be grand but it won't pay the rental On your humble flat, or help you at the automat Men grow cold as girls grow old And we all lose our charms in the end But square cut or pear shaped These rocks don't lose their shape Diamonds are a girl's best friend
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A soft foot fall clacked on the ice like a business woman's polished black high heels on the tiled office floor. The general background hum of many the many equines who dwelled here had become hushed. The morning light still failing to pour through the entrance to the icy citadel. A creature, a creamy white toned creature passed through the threshold to the quiet north garden. Her hooves had carried her far to reach this place, one of the lower caverns. The rock was lost benith thick glacial blue ice. Snow rarely ventured here, only ice. Glistening and liquid, like a delicate insect caught in time by the flow of the pine tree's blood. Such an object was owned by the milky femme, it was a large, round amber stone that hung on thin, white gold chain with a buterfly caught in it's midst. Its wings were stretched wide, and it seemed to be screaming. A silent screem of death that has been echoing for millons of years.
Her eyes, a deep azul, penertrating and deathly warm, they survayed the scene from under thick raven lashes. The wind stole through the caverns whistling a light tune and blew her icy tresses forwards, the ice casting a light azure tint. She turned her delicate head towards the cold white, then the dapple grey, intreagued by this strange pair. Bowing her head low, she shook out a thin veil from her mane, and it fell lightly o'er her features. As one of the princesses of the royal cort of lights, it was their custom to wear a veil over their eyes to avoid unwanted suiters. She had been marryed now to a dark lord for several years, and had been in foal for the last six moons. The whole citadel had been a buz with such news, passed from uncontroled lip to eager pricked hark. The princess had been distraught to learn of this from the national news, and this in turn could not have pleased the king, or the dark lord to which she was wed. On her small and slender frame, the roundness of foal made her appear unnaturaly shaped. Bulky and combersum on thin pillars. Moving furthor into the garden she wandered, taking in the sents of the exotic herbs that seemed not to petrify or wilt in the ever lasting winter of the place. Soon she stopped near the Dapple grey, and dipped her head lightly. "Greetings sir," she began, her voice so sweet and sickly, "What brings you to the north garden? Are you not a sothern dweller?" By a 'sothern dweller' she was inclining he was too poor to reside so near the northen chamber of lords, or he was a lowly city threshold gaurd. She rather fancied he was the later. As for the white. He seemed some exotic traveler who had come to tour the beautiful city, perhaps to trade the riches of his own province that he had gathered for riches of the King's province. She smiled politely, and tryed to push away the shadows of disgusted thoughts. What if she was talking to one of those lowly commonders that ruined the south veiw from the castle, which was placed high and prominent to the East of the city. From there the king and his two daughters could see right to the city walls. It truely was a spectacular sight, if you cut out the slums.
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There may come a time when a hard boiled employer Thinks your awful nice But get that ice or else no dice He's your guy when stocks are high But beware when the start to descend It's then that those louses go back to their spouses Diamonds are a girl's best friend I've heard of affairs that are strictly platonic But diamonds are a girl's best friend And I think affairs that you must keep liaisonic Are better bets if little pets get big baggettes Time rolls on and youth is gone And you can't straighten up when you bend But stiff back or stiff knees You stand straight at Tiffany's
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