A chance encounter.

[xXSarcasticXx]

Love. What a fascinating, and sinful emotion. A powerful ally and an unjust enemy. It steals your common sense. Your ties to this world become unraveled. Wonderful, yet horrible. It can warm you, fight against anger, hate- despair. But it can also cause you more pain then any of those. It can break you heart. Crush your soul. It can trick you, make you bleed, and cry out. Hurt, and be hurt. It makes parents overbearing, and children unhappy, it makes welts in your heart as you and your love is rejected again and again. Yes, love is a dangerous weapon. It can heal, and harm. Usually it does both at the same time. Does not the act of love, make us selfish? We say it would hurt too much, if you got hurt. If you left. But do we ever think about how we hurt the other person by loving them. Using the excuse, ‘It’s just because I love you.’ Does love not cause more harm then good? Romeo and Juliet fell in love, this lead to their deaths. Is love amazing? Ask them. Yet we all agree, we want to fall in love, we want to feel that pain. We feel lost with out it. Love is sweet. To be truthful, we all weather we admit it or not, search for love. We seek out this pain, this hurt, this rejection… for what cause? It is only because that hurt and pain, make the sweet moments so much sweeter.

The femme sighed deeply, watching the bubbles around her pop as she exhaled carbon dioxide and oxygen into the water. She was mere feet below the calm surface, eyes keenly watching the shore for a plaything to come along. She breathed in, inhaling the oxygen through the water. She was a pure Kelpie, through and through, but over the years she’d gained approbation and a tolerance to the land she scoured on. Her forest green eyes scanned the edge of the water once more, before moving her legs steadily at a constant pace, towards the shore.

One, two, one, two, pause.

Lumina stopped as her head lay only an inch below the surface. She was ducking, purposely, just incase someone was coming around the bend. She’d been waiting for nearly an hour, but all who’d passed had been singing or humming her song… And how could she lure such faithful singers? She checked once more, then sensing no one was there, she decided to go forth. As her head broke the surface she shivered, her crème colored radars flicked back as she tried to clear them, clear liquid streaming from their depths. She shook her dainty head from side to side, scattering droplets from the far left- to the far right. The miniscule beads of water seemed to hold on to her palomino pelt with tiny, though effective claws. Because of this; each motion she made caught light and reflected off of these tiny crystalline droplets. Paired with her beauty it seemed that a long lost river goddess had suddenly come above the surface for the first time. She wanted to laugh at that thought, yet she held her silence, she didn’t like to laugh out loud alone. It seemed contradictive. Her lips parted once again in a sigh, her breath was light, and even, this simple sound, was musical coming out of her maw.

She blinked her eyes clear, their azure spotted depths cold and teasing, daring someone to come around the bend and see her. She lifted another hoof, her shoulders emerged. Rivets of water sparkled down her flanks as she took each step forward, as purposeful as a reigning queen. She did another light toss of her delicately carved cranium, before she arched her décolletage gracefully, lips barely brushing the surface of the water. She glazed into her reflection, and beyond. She saw the golden river-bed she knew so well, as well as her own, naturally stunning form. Then she peered into her own dark emerald eyes, as if she could read the answers to her thoughts in her reflection. With no such luck, after a few moments she prickled her ears, straining for the sound of another equine.

After hearing nothing for a few moments she stretched her neck, and turned, only up to her knees in water. She didn’t actually want to go out and look for someone- it seemed like too much effort. She decided she would just have to amuse herself a different way for now. She swam deeper and deeper into the water, stopping at the edge of kaito, and swimming in loose circles there. She didn’t want to go way out to the meer yet; she hadn’t talked to another equine in ages, and was dying to have a good conversation.

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Word Count: Approx 815
Muse Level: Sucks, but it’ll get better as soon as someone joins and posts.
Comments: None really.

['Scape-Monster]

Masochism. Everyone has the ability to be masochisic. In fact, all beings are masochistic in one way or another. We desire conversation, though we know there is a healthy chance that we will be rejected such an action. We love. Love is one of the worst. We know we can get hurt, and when we do, we simply throw ourselves out to such a thing yet again. Love is horrible, but only second to hope. Masochism has a dirrect link to hope. Hope makes others want to believe. Hope tries to give people reasons to live, though it can be painfully obvious that they want to throw themselves from the cliff. Hope. That burning, that evil in white. Hope. Its such a disgusting thing, really. It turns people against what their instincts tell them. I hope I can find prey today. But what happens when you take that chance, knowing full well that you will die if you don't find something? Hope. Its a killer in a soft disguise.

The Shire was keeping low in the sunlit hours. Never again would he have the hope of finding prey. One would think that if a miricle happend while hoping, their faith in such an emotion would grow. Not for this stud. No, it scarred him for life. Hope is Hopeless, and it should stay that way. The day was his enemy, the Night his greatest allie. Even though he was sucha heavy breed, he moved with such grace, it was clear that he was born a Kelpie. His feathers flowed out around his hidden daggers. His banner followed lazily behind him as his mane pulled upwards with the flow of the currents. He took a deep breath, filling his roan bodice with the air through the water. Yes, the equine could breath under the water. He lived there, and so, such an adaptation was required of him, no?

The darkness of the deep waters consumed him well, though he still stood out, his blue roan colour. He wasn't dark enough to blend in with such inky waters as of yet. The Stallion never would be able to do such a thing, and he had no hope to be able to. Hope gave one the idea that the impossible could become possible. it was a sickening thought, and it made the mind weak. Such a thin tendril, hope provided others. Something that someone came up with for the foals to sleep at night. Hope didn't exist, just the fools who followed others blindly in beliefe of something that would never happen. He snorted, the bubbles rising up lazily through the water.

Slowly.. so slowly... His auds pricked. The water was shifting, someone was coming in this dirrection. It had to be a Kelpie, for no horned land equine, exceptionally excluding the ones that crossed the sky, would be able to traverse such depths. such a deffined pace, the way that the water moved through the currents. The Shire tried to pin-point the dirrection the swim was coming from. It was getting farther away, and he knew that they were not travling as deep as he was. If the stallion wanted a chance to see who was out this far, he would have to rise. Carefully, he began kicking his way upwards, slowly.. slowly... his deep black orbs searched the waters. This was as far as he dared to go. The sun was barely brushing his blue roan coat through the water, and it reminded him of the one time he surfaced from such a liquid sanctuary. The stud shivered minutely, letting his nares flare, brining in life giving oxygen, then letting the rejected air flow back out again, the bubbles making their way up through the collumn of water.

Again, the sound of water moving in a constant motion against the predestined current caught his auds. With great caution, the Stud made his way in the dirrection that he believed such an action was coming from. And when he finally came in sight of the being, it was impossible not to recognize the figure. One feared by all those on land. The one mare that had such a lovely tune to be sung to keep her at bay. And the stud was swimming among her waters. His kissers pulled up slightly in a smirk. Perhaps he could entertain this lovely lady. He had no intention to charm her completely, but he wanted to speak with her. He had heard so much about her tactics, the way she moved, spoke, carried out her work. It had been so long since he had spoken with another equine; most did not dare to traverse the waters as deep as he did.

The Roan Stud made his way forward, his feathers moving about in the water with extra beauty, as if they understood that the creature wanted to appear inviting, rather than unapproachable. He was such a heavy breed, he often looked like a beheamoth beast rising from the depths of hell. He opened his silken maw, his forelock blocking half of his white blaze, the only definable and special feature about him physically. "Why, such a lovely lady such as yourself appears to be in need of company." the shire bowed his head, though he kept his obsidian orbs on the mare. "Raven Crest, at your service." perhaps this sort of charm would be enough for the girl, and if not, it had been a while since he needed to use his mighty muscles to escape to the deepest waters.

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Word Count:: 929 Meh.. I wish it was longer...
Muse:: Rather good at the moment
Notes:: Oh dear.. I appologize. I've been meaning to get to this for the longest time. School just took priority for a while. *is deeply ashamed* either way, its up now, so I hope it is to your tastes.

[/blockquote]

[xXSarcasticXx]

B E T R A Y A L

Betrayal. It cuts your soul. It kills you slowly. You might not even notice, because there is no immediate reaction. It is not like pain, where you instantly feel it. It is more of a slow take over. Leisurely, the trust that has held your hopes and dreams in place becomes unraveled, causing you to panic. With this lost of calm, more of you allies leave you, deepening the betrayal. There is a few times where this can smooth over, and you can forget about what happened. You can forgive the unforgivable, and put it to rest.

But if you cannot, forget, if you cannot, forgive, you will then start to obsess. The obsession starts gradually, just like the betrayal. It begins with a few direct questions, ‘where were you? What were you talking about? Who were you with?’ before you start to kid yourself into believing your most trepid nightmare, you worst fear. And this grows inside of you, finally forcing out of you in an eruption of a far off, winding accusation against one which you refuse to believe did nothing wrong.

There are different types of betrayal; that of family, or friends, or enemies, or perhaps even those who are unknown. But the worst type of betrayal is one that you cause to yourself. You can betray, hand over, give up, let out, and deceive your deepest fears, and desires. You can trick yourself into believing anything. You can build a fragile shell around the world that you believe in, and forever lock it down. This is the worst betrayal. The one, which you will never be able to escape from. The one which will haunt you, forever more.

The femme inhaled deeply, half of her mind focusing on her past while the other dwelled on the ever remaining fact that she’d not gotten the chance to lure a horse to its death today. The air rushed out of her maw and into the water surrounding her, as she let out a silent sigh. Her golden pelt shivered, creating ripples in the midnight blue water. Her hooves faltered, and she allowed herself to sink softly, a few feet. Drifting down away from the sunlight. The darkness, if anything, complimented her bright fur, as she hung, suspended in the water. She snorted, the clear fluid beside her muzzle, was displaced as bubbles churned the liquid.

Her tail swished, the mixture of golden, and crème colored tresses brushing against her slender hocks. Long lashes curled down softly over the planes of her cheekbones as she shut her eyes and arched out her décolletage. Her ears flattened against the poll of her crown, the barest glimmer of movement from her slender pillars, kept her steadily at her wanted depth. Lumina’s skin twitched, as she realized someone was watching her. Opening her eyes slightly to show emerald slits, she caught sight of the hulking, muscular equine approaching her from below.

This intrusion did not send a flicker of fear into her heart as you might suspect, as this other beast was easily larger then her own dainty size; she simply shut her optics, prickled her ears, and pranced in a light half circle so that he was facing her side, not head to head. Green light glittered as she blinked open her eyes, their azure spotted depths mysteriously covered by a light façade of teasing warmth. His dark blue roan coat seemed to soak in, yet repel the shadows at the same time, it was almost the same way that her pelt captured, and defied light equally. She hummed her song under her breath, the sound soft, musical, and deadly alluring. She knew her voice didn’t work as well on other kelpies as if did on land equines; but it still had enough to muddle those with weaker minds. She noticed his smirk, and a look of polite incredulity was passable on her delicate features. Her lips curved in a mocking smile, teasing with him, as if wanting him to try his hardest.

She watched him move with almost a palpable air of satisfaction and desire. This flagrant display of her whims was most charismatic and characteristic of her. She took a quick note of his blaze, the only bright feature about him, before listening to his voice. A grin stretched her lips, eyes as innocent and as wicked, as the devil himself. She had just finished humming the third verse of her melody, as he finished speaking and she opened her mouth, the sweetest notes pouring out of her muzzle as she sang the last verse of her song. “‘Oh my dear lullaby,
As I sing, with my last sigh. Tell me true, with your traitorous tongue; Am I now just one of the dead you swim among?’” She dipped her attractive form into what could only be called a curtsy. “Hello, Raven Crest. I’m not sure you could keep me company… You might not be able to keep up?” There was a challenge; a question to her tone, as if she was waiting for him to tell her she was wrong, as if wanting for him to fight a little harder. She waited for him to respond with an air of such confidence, that she could well, indeed, be a fearsome thing to cross. Her eyes swept, unbidden down his handsome form, before returning, teasingly to his face. She cocked her head slightly to the side, slender muzzle quivering as she let out a dainty sigh.

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Word Count: 920
Muse Level: Slowly getting better.
Comments: I hope you like it. And I hope it gives you some ideas to reply with.