by bears » Sun Apr 12, 2015 11:15 am
I sincerely apoligize in advance for the excessive length of this story, I honestly didn't mean for it to go this far. I'm not trying to out-do my other contestants, but this mare came up and gave me a ton of inspiration to work off of.
I also would have based my story a bit off of Ahri, but that seemed exhausting, and I don't want to overdo it.
Username: Mother of Bears
Name: Unholy communion [Ahriman]
Gender: mare
Halter color: black with gold fittings
Personalty: wip
Your first encounter?:
word count // 987
edit count // 2
Mornings in the barn can be described as routine, and even cheerful on some days. Horses can be seen stretching their necks over fences and stall doors, their lips shuddering as they sniffed out food. Several people hurry to deliver food to horses, quieting them with the comforting smell of hay. The horses that are frequently fed last were put in the sturdiest stalls so they didn’t kick the walls in, and several horses out in the paddock bite and kick, clamoring to get in front of other horses. Foals nicker for their mothers to wake, their empty bellies growling. A rooster screams from somewhere in the barn, in the hay loft no doubt. In less than an hour the noise has died down, and the sound of shifting hay, and soft chuffing can be heard, leaving the farm hands covered in dust and horse sweat.
The sun is just lighting the sky by then, the pine trees wrapped in a gold halo cast by the glare of dawn. The air is fresh and crisp, and everything is right. Dogs bark off in the distant corner of the farm, yelping and howling for their breakfast. Birds sing dismal songs in the birch trees lining the paddock, and young horses frolic below them, their bellies now full with warm milk.
Breakfast is served for the humans last, and the oldest people usually stay behind, starting a breakfast of bacon, eggs, muffins, and raw milk. One or two people are vegetarian, and are fine with eggs and hash browns; everyone is happy to accommodate another’s needs.
Once breakfast is moved out of the way, horses are brushed down. Dust and horse hair sits in the air, clinging to puffs of breath from the chill, catching the sun, which is almost fully risen.
Saddles creak and groan when laid on horses’ backs, hooves scrape on the cement as rumps are swung around to move out of the way for others. Not every horse is ridden in the mornings, so the ones that aren’t being ridden watch from their stalls lazily, some of the younger horses shifting about restlessly. Much older horses are led out to a pasture that they have to themselves, it being the most well-groomed pasture out of all 100 acres of pastures.
Southern downs had long been known as a sanctuary. There were several horses with behavioral problems that were rehabbed, and a deaf horse that had lived there for as long as he is old, known by the name of Jackle.
Only twice before had someone turned to southern downs for rehoming help, and the owners of the manor had gladly opened a stall for the three horses that needed help.
Something was brewing in the air that morning. It didn’t have the stirring tension that danger did, but it was much like it. Most of the farm-runners shrugged it off as something social going on in the herd. Once helmets where snapped on, and heels were turned down with practiced ease, the small convoy set to trudging down the trail that followed the property line. The sun had risen enough to start melting the frost on the ground, warming the air in small, uneven patches. The horses stretched their stiff muscles slowly, their heads low, and their eyes drooping. Hushed voices carried across the pastures easily, and birds could be heard warbling far ahead of the slow moving group. A forest stretched on for miles on one side of the property, and on the other was a worn farm, with a modest cattle herd. An old couple lived there, and they could be seen tending to their animals early in the morning, every morning. Their movements where slow and deliberate, but they never failed to throw a hand in the air as greeting when they saw the riders passing by.
For a week the old couple had been outside more and more every day, working with a horse they had recently acquired. The spirited animal would flash in and out of view, a hoof thrown in the air, maybe you’d catch a glance of pinned ears. It never cried out or whinnied, so the riders kept moving, undistracted. But today the couple was not outside.
The group collectively noticed this absence, and slowed their steady trudge to an unsteady halt. The cattle where not there, and the horse could not be seen beating the earth with its hooves. A couple riders dismounted, a few others squinted from the backs of their mounts. It was unusual for the old couple to not be out, and especially unusual that their cattle where not in their usual place. The couple had generously supplied Southern Downs with fresh milk for several months, and a close relationship had developed between the neighbors and the inhabitants. They would not have left, or gotten rid of their cattle without a gentle reminder to someone at Southern Downs.
A sharp whinny shot through the trees, around a sharp bend, startling the group further.
Everyone remembered dimly that the horse was well groomed, and had been fed bran earlier that morning, since the horse’s muzzle was sticky with it. She wore an old leather halter, sun dried and cracked, with stiff bronze fittings. When the mare saw the first of the group, she shifted her hooves, watching the horses in an intelligent manner. She was tied loosely to the wooden fence, with no note, or obvious explanation. She was quickly recognized as the high spirited horse that rampaged the neighboring pastures by a couple members of the convoy.
Chuffing softly, the mare made small clouds of breath, and watched them rise into the air like an amused child. The other horses were notably uninterested in the way their breath rose into the air. Every bird that took flight, every horse that moved, every gesture made—this mare caught it, and seemed to understand it.
Last edited by
bears on Mon Apr 13, 2015 5:28 am, edited 6 times in total.
. In appearance, all Angels have glossy, light coloured eyes (pastel almost), and light coloured coats, markings will range. Angels also tend to be taller (no more than 15hh though), smarter, and faster than the average tolter. If you want to know all of the Angels i'm going to do , here is the list. I'm not going to skip any unless it's the same angel but with a different name, so don't worry. If you have any questions feel free to message me!
