Post by Racing on Jul 29, 2011 23:58:42 GMT -7
The cycle repeated
As explosions broke in the sky
Royale Heir Empty Thy Mind
All that I needed
Was the one thing I couldn't find
Thyme
And you were there at the turn
Waiting to let me know
7 Months
We're building it up
To break it back down
Horse ;; will be 15.2 fully grown
We're building it up
To burn it down
Irish Draught ;; 100%
We can't wait
To burn it to the ground
Chestnut, white up to knees and hocks, white blaze on face. Blazing like a fire, all different tones of red and orange cover her hide.
The colors conflicted
As the flames, climbed into the clouds
Warm Brown
I wanted to fix this
But couldn't stop from tearing it down
Filly
And you were there at the turn
Caught in the burning glow
I don't back down from a fight. While I usually am easygoing, get my blood pumping and I will not back down. I am very headstrong and like things my way or the highway. If you have a problem with that? Drag me down your highway. I won't go anywhere I'm not willing to, and while I have loyalty, I have no problem leaving behind a friend in need. I start out meeting new people with a snarl yet a delicate touch. I push and recede with what seems subtle, but is brutally honest if you care to look. If you push back I'll turn and leave you. I don't care whether or not I am alone or not. Good luck with me. I fight back and I run. You never know what I will do.
And I was there at the turn
Waiting to let you know
I was a princess where I came from. My father built up a huge empire of slavery and breeding; hence, I do not see forcing as rape, I see it as it is, as breeding. So long as one provides heirs, what one's 'dreams' are do not matter. What they want does not matter. In this, I was set to inherit my father's empire-- and I will. I will bring his empire and build it in my own image; I will flip the system. Mares begin to force stallions. I will be the leader. If any stallion tries to force ME, he's in for a fucking surprise. But for now, the empire belongs to my mother. She has done exactly what I planned, when my father died. She is the Lead Forcer of the Grounds, in this faraway land. I will bring the revolution. If you doubt you will find yourself another stallion under my thumb. But, my father is dead and my mother is the Lead Forcer. And so, I left my home at five months to spread the good message. On my way here... Nothing happened. Yet here I am. I will raise the empire and bring the change, and become Royale QUEEN Empty Thy Mind.
When you fall, I'll take my turn
And fan the flames
As your blazes burn
A wasteland, one filled with regrets and blood, of life and death. The moon rested in the sky as if reclining on a cashmere blanket of blue. Such a blue it almost seems black, yet under scrutiny and a being's simple sense, the color is lightening. Slowly but surely, like one who is reluctant to leave a warm bed, but must to get to a job or elsewhere important. Even though dawn is approaching, it is a hesitant skulk, not a boastful flourish. So the moon reigns with an iron fist, casting a infirm glow over the abysmal land. In it's full glory the lunar being would be perfectly white in a glow of undiscovered territory. Those that stalked this dismal area had a sort of worship for the moon-- it was a Goddess in it's own right, after all-- and none could fail to admire the moon. Even when it seemed like it's tainted rays would cause an irreparable sickness, those chained to the bedamned earth never stopped loving their night goddess.
The muck sucked under a horse's hooves, and pulled at a wolf's fur. If muck was an appropriate term, considering that all types of soil seemed mixed here, as if exotic beings had carried bits of their own forsaken lands, and left said particles to cause a blending of cultures and differences. Such a blending was a wonderful thing, but not when these creatures had no way to reciprocate it. Usually they that entered the Blue Moon lands never left it. Yet the murky, quicksand-like substance that those that treaded this land were forced to walk upon, did have one upside-- it had dry, gravelly patches of dirt that one might rest on before continuing on. Usually the gunk was contained to certain spots in the flooring, but after a recent storm? A storm in which you could see the rain as clearly as one-way glass, sweeping at you with the ferocity of a charging bull. A torrent of rain that was not odd for this time of year-- summer storms are a part of life, but this storm was particularly strong and so the once hard-packed, dusty ground was covered in inches of newly created slime.
Such grime was a hamper to a flaming shape as it struggled in the muck. A single hoof had gotten stuck in a deep hole, caused by a huge hoof. Said hoof had unearthed a small rodent's nest, hopefully long deserted at this point, and it was in that that the filly's little hoof was trapped. Royale Heir Empty Thy Mind screeched an indignant cry at the moon, before glaring around at the horizon for one to help her. Usually the stubborn lass would refuse help, and get out of it her own way, but she'd been stuck for a half a day now, and was tired of it. As she glared around, the sky had steadily finished lightening and was a soft blue, a periwinkle if you would. Then with a fiery burst over the earth, the sun peeked over the horizon. As if, it were a child playing hide and seek. Or maybe a dead being worming it's way out of it's burial place-- all's burial place, the earth, the underground. Six feet under.
Oh, how Thyme loved that saying. 'Six feet under'. Perhaps that would be her first daughter's name. One daughter would have that name, at least. The heiress planned on being quite a babymaker, as it was what she knew. She grew up in that mindset, that world and it wasn't likely to change. To any passing stallion, even, just so long as he didn't try to enslave her. But she would mind-game them. Not the other way around, never. She would be a temporary and independent concubine of sorts, but only if she got to play with her boy-toys first. Thyme wanted a mate, yes, certainly completely and fully, but she felt it would take a long while. And if she died here, her plans would fail. Her revolution, her empire, would fail. This would not do!
With this the chestnut's struggles resumed, and in just a matter of minutes working the right angle, her white-to-the-hocks hind leg popped free. With a joyful whinny the youngling pranced away from the entrapment, a fiery being in a sky warmed with pink. Warm tones washed over the lands, the moon and the few stars disappearing with a last twinkle. The sun, a hazy ball of fire and gas over the east, was quickly rising. And all too soon, the sun was up and the world around her seemed to close, yet open at the same time. While some things closed shop when day broke, for others, life was just beginning. A joyous cycle of nocturnal and diurnal. Life was always at it's finest at these points-- when dawn broke and when night rose.
Thyme stretched her long limbs and her neck, her coat muddy and icky. She did not enjoy getting grimy, while she usually preferred being clean like most ladies do. But she still pranced off, incredibly happy to be free. Off in the distance, she saw a form. A dark form, lying on the floor. Was it dead? She thought so. But it was on one of the only dry patches of land, so she would go to it and push it into the muck and if it wasn't dead? Let it die stuck in the muck while Thyme got clean. With that thought she dashed with a grace unusual to a 6 month old, her heart intent on the dry patch. It took her a bit, but once there she reared up and whinnied in her tiny foal-voice, proclaiming her joy. But then she remembered. The other being. Spinning about, she spied it was another foal! Cautiously approaching it, she nudged it as she noticed it was male. Was it breathing? Time to find out. "Hey. Hey, you! Are you alive?" She frowned, and nosed him again harshly. She also took inventory of his coloring. A deep black, like an abyss, but with a gold-white mane and tail. Like frosting on a cake. She frowned again, before backing as much as she could, prepared to ram him into the mud so she would have more room. If he didn't answer her, she would do it. And if he did answer her? She might just do it anyway.
- title credit Korn feat. Skrillex, Get Up!
-lyrics credit Linkin Park, Burn It Down