loss (templebar)

[genuinewicked]

trepas

.}welcome.

.} his steps were deliberate, rising and falling at a steady rhythm, leaving bent foliage and grass where they had fallen. no need to rush. some lucky bastard would have to deal with him soon anyway. cranium was perched high atop a thick, rippling boa, towers swaying too and fro. pelt of ebony and ivory was stretched tight across a bulky frame, muscles rippling beneath the skin. footsteps drew up a small amount of dust, billowing arounds his feathery hocks. he had arrived here only a few days before, but the hunger-control had already gotten the best of him. and besides...he was ready to see some new faces. strange new things had begun happening to our dear trepas. isolation usually didn't bother him, but here, it was almost as if he needed communication to exist. maybe it was just the guilt, but no. he couldn't let that eat away at him here. that life was far behind him now. with new lands, and a new beginning, the brutus would start over. he had a rather clean slate...for now. but he did tend to make a quick, and usually negative, first impression. quite stand-offish, he was, but that was just his way, no harm done. well...yeah, that was a lie. trepas had caused his fair share of harm. to others...and himself. a troubled bastard he was.

steady gait eventually brought the hellion to step foot upon the dark lands. the shadow lands. kissers lifted to the air, paperthins fluttered as he softly inhaled. ah, the sweet stench of death. but it was faint. not much had taken place here recently. on top of that was the sweet scent of a young witch...or witches. he wasn't quite sure. then there was the unmistakeable smell that only accompanied a brute. paperthins burned, and the brute sneezed, willing the vile smell out of his system. tossing his skull, he set into a calm three-beat, crossing the lands in a flowing manner. he was a bastard, but a handsome one still. thank his mother and father. they were the ones to contribute to his pure lineage of gypsy vanner. czar had still spotted no others, none living, nor dead. he had yet to decide whether this was a good or bad thing, but decided not to dwell too much on the fact.

tossing his skull into the oxygen once more, brutus bared his ivorns, releasing a grunt as his three-beat shifted smoothly into a four-beat. pistons reached beneath him, daggers piercing the soft, dead earth. he was moving fast now, black and white tendrils and banner streaming behind him. muzzle was tucked close to his chest, aerials in a neutral position. nostrils were expanding and collapsing at a much faster rate now, allowing more oxygen to flow through his airways. crimson was flowing now, causing heat to build up beneath the brute's hide. he could feel the rage, the fury, and the surge of power as he moved across the charred landscape. it sent a wave of goose-bumps shuddering over his body. towers pricked, blue pools squinting, the czar skidded to an abrupt stop, tendrils falling about his facade . front daggers left the ground for a moment, brujo balancing on his hind haunches. kissers parted, releasing a shrill scream, challenging any equine, witch or hellion, to approach him. so much for a subtle approach. diamonds hit the earth once more, cranium bobbing as the stag snorted softly, chains slashed his haunches, and he settled down to wait.



status: complete
word count: 597
muse: blah
notes: this is an old post, so it doesn't quite fit the scenery.