weeping weeds ― angelus

[skibbereenfarms]

ELEANOR
―the just

The desert was never really a place she would consider to be home, despite having some traceable lineage to the dunes. She always thought her slender frame was more suited for the cooler climates, and while both her parents had lived in warmer areas their entire lives, she always considered herself so much different than they were anyway. Eleanor was more refined, more elegant than the islander and the speed demon. To her they were simply uncultured. She barely considered them proper caretakers anyhow; so young and naïve, unfit to take care of a child. And yet, their offspring turned out rather alright. She still found herself unable to venture into the desert during the day, and so the mare opted for the late afternoon, specifically when the sun began to tickle the horizon.

Eleanor welcomed the night. While it did not frighten her, she did sometimes feel a lack of security, especially when she found herself hopelessly lost in the forest. Every tree tended to look the same as the last, and it was easy for her to lose her way. Here, however, there were no trees to confuse her. She would not be venturing too far into the dunes, but examining the outskirts of the land could be just as exciting. The atmosphere here was different, much unlike the treasures she had discovered the other day at Rivatha. There was a looming sense of loneliness that she wished she could've filled, but it seemed that this was a place of solitude. She would certainly come here in the future should she feel the need to reflect upon something alone.

_{ooc; i wasn't really sure how to start this off, but whatever. things should pick up once angelus comes in.}

[/blockquote]

[Silver]

Angelus

His thoughts were starting to fall into place, it seemed. Ever since his first rendezvous with the mare Nakita, and their subsequent releasing of sexual tensions, his nightly companions had started to take a back seat and watch from afar with approval. Now and then he grasped hints of their conversation - talk of a “Black God” - and it intrigued him. More and more each day he grew tired of the desert herd and their backwards thinking. The herd was a moderate size, but purity was no way to create a sustainable herd. There would eventually be too much inbreeding, and then the outcasts would have to turn to someone. Angelus would be there for them at that time, ready to accept new followers. And if the wraiths’ whispers could be trusted, the Black God was ready to accept many followers, of all walks of life. There was none he would turn back, and united, they would be unstoppable. It was as if Angelus’ own great-grandfather was talking to him face to face. A legacy to leave forever.

He was inspecting the borders of the desert, wondering what was out there, and where he would go if need be, when he spotted a mare. She was painted orange by the dying sun, but still her faded black body caught his eye. She had some white on her, but her graceful way of moving was what interested him the most. The large stallion picked up the pace. He had no wish to frighten her, nor to sneak up on her, as the night had not yet fully come and he was fairly visible against the oranges and yellows of the dunes in the sunset light. “How fare you, lady?” He called out to her, genuinely concerned about her wellbeing. It was something that set him apart from his ancestor, Cancer. Angelus, while perhaps bearing the madness that created Cancer’s fame, had a heart open to many relationships, and wished to gain the loyalty of his followers by engaging and knowing them, rather than solely by fear. A little fear was not unappreciated though.

ooc: I'M SORRY THIS IS SO LATE. i feel terrible. -dies- hope it's okay.
word count: 354
tag: eleanor