Drowning In This Life | Havra

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Life; it was such a sad thing sometimes. What was that saying again? Life sucks and then you die... that sounded right. The brute ground his teeth together, watching a family of deer graze a ways bellow the steep hill where he was currently perched. With the wind whipping around his already tangled, rough mane and tail, he thought about what a sad life most lived. Most were born, raised, reproduced, and killed. They were nothing more than the ants that crawled on the ground. Useless, dumb things that served no greater purpose in life. A waste of space in Voltair’s opinion. What was worse was that most seemed okay with such a measly existence. He, though, was not. He was one of the rare individuals that sought something bigger than the average life. And he was hell bent on ridding himself and the land of all those ‘ants’. He was the boogeyman under your bed, the monster your mother told you about. Most wouldn’t guess it at first sight, for he could appear to be just a shadow in the background, watching and observing long before striking. But, he always struck eventually.

Swiftly, he took off down the hill from which he stood, hooves pounding into the mix of rock and grass beneath him, legs carrying him at a blinding speed. The slope of the hill probably helped. The innocent little dear had only seconds to react, and he watched with pinned ears and narrowed eyes as they scatted, fanning out in all directions to avoid the oncoming stallion.

He didn’t stop to apologize for almost running over one of the does. No, he didn’t stop until his muscles burned and his eyes stung from the blisteringly cold wind. Lungs heaved, nostrils flared as he came upon a small river. Finally, he quickly slowed to a walk, head lowering to the waters as he walked along the shallows.

NOTES: eh. don like this that much.
WORD COUNT: eh
MUSE: Good, but the writers block kills.
VOICE: mark strong as lord blackwood

[Snowfrost]

HAVRA.

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Stalking.
A particularly precise act that usually involved stiffening of the tendons, heightening of the senses, an increase in blood flow -- an increase in excitement. Well, at least for the mare performing it now that was the case. What was she stalking? Not even she knew. Shadows, it could be -- lizards, a doe, another horse. She didn't know, and it didn't matter. It was the principle. Nothing more, nothing less; the act of forcing one's body to fall back fluidly into a state so natural for a creature born of nothing but the friction between the opposite sexes. Didn't matter if they loved one another or not, if they had another foal whom they fancied more or not -- it was principle, and simply so.

The black beast stalked, prowled, even allowed growls to vibrate through her body in pleasure of simple motion. Her eyes darted back and forth, not a particular thing in sight. Perhaps she was stalking the world. That would make more sense. She lowered her head in such a manner that the grasses brushed along her jaw as she snaked about, the blades tingling across her lips -- they tickled and toyed with her scar, a mark she wore without pride nor shame. In fact, if asked (and if she chose to answer) it's likely Havra wouldn't know how to reply with her feelings of the open-and-healed wound. It wasn't nothing, but it wasn't anything at the same time; and it was a healed wound. A complete paradox within itself; a contradiction, something that could even describe the large mare on occasion.

Sticking to the shadows and trunks of thin trees, the mare continued moving about without a destination placed in her mind. Again, it was simply the movement. Simply, until she was disrupted.

Didn't bother her, at first. She didn't care to hear it, so she blocked it out. Plain and simple, right? Continue prowling, continue the fluidity -- get on with her day. Simple. But it wasn't simple. It was growing, festering, becoming louder and louder and more obnoxious. Why, it made her smile.

Pausing mid-stride, Havra sighed outwardly in a calm manner and rose from the stalker's stance. Snorting briefly, she abandoned the simple game and movements to find out what the noises were. Certainly something so obnoxious and entertaining could not have come from herself. She wasn't crazy, after all.

It was the rustling of others, the sounds of crashing and disruption, the sounds of leaves misplaced and other minor things she cared not to know about -- and yet it continued to make her smile. Perhaps it was because something from deep inside of the bowls of her being could sense it -- some sense that was unnameable but there at the same time. Something she herself would not name when asked but would follow when it came to her. She would tell something was going to happen before it did today, it seemed. And she was drawn to it; with a smile.

Eyes glinted in the shaded light as she pushed through the bushes, her head in a mid-to-high normality, her movements fluid when she desired or stocky and like logs when she felt the need. In a way this was stalking to a new degree, something that continued to bring her a glimmer of amusement she would not justify with a name. Again.

What met her eyes as she approached the scent was not surprising, but it was the principle of it all that kept that wicked smile from approaching. Slit eyes watched silently as she observed the creature, darker in color than even she in this time of the year. He waded through the waters, but that didn't amuse nor bother her. She didn't care anymore, it seemed. A light scoff, and the mare was turning around with her tail lightly tangling up into her left hind leg.

But there was still that sensation, that sense that kept her nearby. She couldn't explain it, but it stirred in her gut and clawed at her throat when she tried to leave. Flicking her ears back briefly, the mare deciding to give in and turned back around to watch him. She didn't move more. She was satisfying the sensation that wouldn't leave her alone. Simple as that. Yes.

Simple.

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[Toaster]

For several minutes the brute strode through the shallows, not caring to pay much attention to that which was around him. All he did was focus in on the ripples that glided smoothly across the surface of the waters. They reminded him of how his life had once been, when he had first left home in a rage. It had been so long ago, yet Voltair could remember feeling lost for quite a while, with no real destination and his feet seeming to take him in every direction. He had disliked the feeling of having absolutely no control over his own life. Wandering, wandering, wandering. Now, however, was different. Perhaps he did not own the lands that he wished to have, but at least he had a destination of his choosing. And while he knew it may take a while to get there, he still felt the control he needed.

An odd feeling suddenly brought his attention off the river, and he halted while lifting his head. It was one of those feelings someone would often get while being watched. Except, others may have found it terrifying. Voltair on the other hand just felt irritated by it. Why couldn’t everyone just fuck off, for he wasn’t in the mood.

His head turned, and so did his body as he took in his surroundings in search of whomever it was that must have been there. But they were not in his line of sight, as far as he’d been able to tell. Howver, he knew they were there. He was rarely wrong about his gut feelings. And so he lifted his nose to the sky, trying to catch whatever scent may of drifted by. And there it was; the obvious scent of a female. As the aroma filled his nostrils, his mindset changed drastically. His previous wishes to be left alone vanished, and he was left with the craving to find the mare he’d caught whiff of. Whether she was the actual one watching him or not, he didn’t care anymore as long as he found her.

Figuring out the direction the air was blowing, he headed upwind, following the scent that had caught his attention. Ears flicked every which way in search of a sound that he could possibly pinpoint. Besides the slow beat of his own hooves against the ground, however, he heard nothing except the flow of the river now off behind him. Disgruntled and unsatisfied, Voltair halted before the tree line, ears pinning back. They must have been in there somewhere, but he wasn’t about to go gallivanting through the woods despite how momentarily excited he’d gotten over the discovery that a mare was nearby.

And so he turned, facing off back towards the river yet not taking a step. His ears listened for anything in the forest behind him. “So, you’re going to hide in there forever?” he asked, raising his voice loud enough for anyone within a good distance to hear.

NOTES:
WORD COUNT: eh
MUSE: Good, but the writers block kills.
VOICE: mark strong as lord blackwood

[Snowfrost]

HAVRA.

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It did not come as a surprise to her that he'd picked up on her general location within a matter of moments. After all, it wasn't as though the black mare was hiding currently or anything. Simply standing there, really, feeding the nagging and obscure sensation that clenched her skin when she walked away. Apparently she was meant to observe this one. Something was trying to sway her opinion.

Not usually one to follow the ways of another, it was increasingly strange that she stayed. Not even the brutish mare could explain it, nor would she if she had the answer. She remained to herself, simply observing in a stoic silence. She watched as he moved, watched as he located her, watched as his irritation and emotions both altered and grew.

A smirk emerged from her silence at his words. They sliced through the air, through the shadows, through all that held the mare who remained in the clear area but still appeared before no one, even when not trying to conceal herself.

The shadowed beast's eyes slit gradually, the smirk rising with a wicked twist and coiling around her muzzle. The scar running from her lip tightened, stretched. Lifting her tail ever so lightly, Havra brushed the hairs along her skin before lowering her head and slinking forward. She took to the left, through the trees in such a manner than slinking about would be an understatement. She was one with the shadows, never standing along. Always to the dark, though her eyes glimmered from the shine of mild attention and... even delight, one could assume.

Teeth flashed lightly through her parting lips as the smile curled more, the eyes gleaming as the body of the shadowed viper expanded. A soft snort escaped her nostrils.

"One should never assume, you know. If I were indeed hiding, you would not have known I was around. Such arrogance will never get one far,"

Lifting her head, Havra snorted harsher and pushed through the bushes and trees, eyes gleaming darkly at the stallion before her. Leaves caught to her mane, branches entangled in her tail as she walked, but the mare cared not. With a brief shake of her neck, the black mare came 'round the right side of the stranger and held herself in such a manner that near begged to see what he'd do.

Havra didn't care -- or rather, she'd never admit it. But this was one of those rare occurrences where the mare allowed herself to be swayed by a nagging sensation. Why not have a little fun, take a new road, see what happens? Not like she couldn't control anything if it was truly needed. But stalking wasn't all about having control. Stalking, the principle, the simplicity of the matter was being open to whatever appeared and feeding the instinctual hunger that craved the mere actions.

This one before him, he could possibly offer something for the mild hunger that tugged at her being. She'd take it carelessly, though. No need to excite oneself over one so.. foolish. The black mare's ear flicked toward him sharply, eyes glinting as the breeze pushed the light that seeped through the tree leaves above them.

ooc; Notttt the fondest of this post xD;

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