S I L O U H E T T E
the only thing i ever loved was hate

X.x.X Crimson ambiance vibrantly glared off the aqua’s layer of the reflection of everything beyond in it’s path. From the surface, a flare of lightning cracked against the heavens and a thunderous explosion of resonance crashing echoed through the cluttered realm. A scullery lied almost inaudibly in the small pool as it rippled from the fish that scattered at each earthquake the lighting caused. Nostrils flared and optics lay leisure. Forelock hung low beneath his flews and his dark auburn optics remained unknown under the tangled tassels of shadow, russet, and claret. Muscles rippled beneath the sinister pelt of a kissed bay. Blemishes very visible on his whithers and croup—showing the foul and malicious soul that lurked beneath closed doors.

X.x.X Dipping his maw into the cool, crystalline depths of the icy aqua, burned the heat from his scullery causing all his senses to sharpen. Forelegs stood down slopped, pastern deep into the aqua. Whipcord lie upon the realm’s soil about three inches long as it slightly twitched as the bloodsuckers landed upon his sacred pelt. Deep within the pelt of his flank sent a very irritating vibe, driving him insane. Stretched his well muscled nape arched all the way to where his scullery could gnaw at his flank trying to sooth and stop that irritating itch. Enamels shut in success, as the itch no longer irritated him, everything ok now—no out of place feeling or sight to be felt or seen.

X.x.X Silhouette was an amazing creature, so amazingly large in size and so radiant. Substantially, broad banner deepened with strands of negro, grey, and soil tattered the massively solid and muscular nape arched starting at extremely immense shoulders to a skull held high. The nape has the broadness of stallion and the arch of an Thoroughbred. Forelock is tremendously long and tangles past a soft and deep gray maw. Hefty and well muscled cheek plates are bulked show his masculinity. Whithers stand at 16.o hands with very bulky and well muscled pistons hold his large and muscular frame. An extended well perplexed spine to his long whipcord that drags lightly upon the realm’s ground. It too, is blessed with strands of negro, silver, and soil tattered… Muscle is rippled upon his whole appearance that trembles and sends a tsunami of muscle and power with each movement… Pistons are dappled with grey patterns with his pelt is a deep grey but his coat is whitened and bleached, not from sun but with heredity…

X.x.X Suddenly all soft being of no out of the ordinary or foreign aroma or feeling had been replaced with alertness. A very foreign aroma of some sort of warm blooded fiend. Nostrils flared and optics widened and pricks shot up worth towards the direction the ambiance was throwing the breeze. As the so called storm softened it’s rage lyrics were able to dance across the meadow into his pricks, a vixen, and it was an equine, not one of those retched canines that ever so bothered him. Whipcord slapped his barrel in curiosity as he stared into the direction where the lyrics danced from. In almost every case he would ignore them and be on his way, but her vocals were so—attractive, like he couldn’t turn away from them…

X.x.X Timid footfalls fell and sunk into the realm’s soil as his haunches turned swiftly towards about ninety degrees off from where he estimated she was, so he could maybe watch from a distance without being notice then maybe he would make a respectful move. About twenty minutes passed through time and his pricks were picking up it clearly, it was obvious she was obvious to any other soul—which was best for his benefits. Finally her silhouette appeared about one hundred yards. A soft creamed, sun kissed off bleached pelt glowed softly in the setting sky as the sea-clouds formed above her. He stood at the left haunches of her about fifty yards behind a large forestry hiding his large bodice that lurked in the shadows. He was a dark brute but not an evil one. He preferred to be alone and on his way—he would never hurt a vixen if they did nothing to him and there was no forcing in his business, the vixen had to be willing. After about five minutes Silhouette walked past the forestry into the open but his steps were silent and his breath was inaudible. Stopping he lowered his scullery in a submissive and respectful manner. Maw opened and optics soft and his extremely over powering and deep vocals bellowed out in a soft manner with respect thick in their tones,

[T’is your vocals are exquisite vixen…]

S I L O U H E T T E
the only thing i ever loved was hate

X.x.X Marooned optics gazed upon the Vixen, as if she was a saint of those crooked, so called—angels he has heard storied from elder equines. She seemed very content to wonder upon his safety issues or not. Softly letting his offside cannon rest in a leisure, yet serene movement as his optics respectful kept gaze upon her amazingly lustrous pelt that gleamed bleached in the ambiance rays. Cerulean optics stole his breathe from his maw, they were so stealing to his attention span, so amazingly angelic and beautiful, it was like she was flawless in so many ways

X.x.X Her mind seemed to remain neutral to him, not showing any interest, fear, or hate towards him—in some ways that was good but in others it wasn’t what he was hoping for. Listening to her angelic lyrics once more, his nucleus stop bumping the veins he so needlessly needed to live on. Slwoly his vocals over powered the ambiance around them and soaked them thick with a leisure manner,

[T’s a pleasure to call forth such a picturesque cursing, Cyaness. Oh, am I so blessed to hear your angelic lyrics speak of me; a retched soul compared to your own that t’s saintly? T’s my unworthy cursing is Silhouette ma’dam.]

X.x.X First impression to Silhouette the most important, trying to woe her with his well prepared and thoughts out choosing lyrics he smiled softly. He was a very well educated brute and wanted her to be aware he wasn’t messing around and lying upon her feet, for lust. She truly grabbed his attention and was holding him tight, he’d do anything for this foreign vixen, oh how she could take advantage of his poor, young, pitiful soul.