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Post by ᴛᴀᴛɪᴀɴɴɪsᴛᴀ on Jun 19, 2013 0:21:52 GMT -6
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The taste of victory, however mildly won it was, flooded deprived senses and covered Varsuvius in a warm feeling that he had lacked since his father's death. Living on faith, while watching your world crumble beneath your hooves was a hard pill to swallow, when you knew that soon you would be responsible. Not responsible for the destruction, or the hatred that swarmed the veins of your kin, but for the innocent that would be seeking a way out. He had aided the ladies, watching them take off to their separate lives. A part of him wished to envy their new found happiness, while he wallowed in the death of his parents. He could not hold such things against them though, for they would have suffered far worst than he, had they stayed behind.
Heavy limbs drew over the land, a slow meticulous watlze that drew him into this new world that would be known as his. It was odd to know that you held power, when it had not been something you'd been openly seeking. He would not leave way for his mind to complain about the circumstances, when they were exactly what he wanted. His mind, however, was now preoccupied with the matters he now had to deal with. He had hoped for so long to have a chance to make up for his brother's desecration of his father's name and their lineage all together. Somehow he had been so caught up in reminiscing on the past, that he had lost himself for a time to aimless wandering. He couldn't imagine how this had all fallen to him so easily, yet the stallion that had claimed this parcel had disappeared and he would not turn opportunity away. His muscles rippled beneath his massive hide, anticipation curling in the pit of his stomach. Releasing his scent on the land, he in turn inhaled the scents of each of the mares that called this place home. He had been raised, perhaps archaically, on the gallant notion of being a protector. It was a state of mind and the way of his heart to do well for others and protect them from the cruelties of the world.
Drawing short of his next step, he settled his bones and lifted his thick neck to part his lips and bellow a call to his herd members. It was the ending of one reign and the beginning of another, and no doubt the females would be wary. They probably carried or had already birthed foals of the previous stallion, but that didn't make a difference to Varsuvius. His goal was not to impregnate mares and create a veritable army of offspring. He held goals far more noble, and far less easily obtained than such things. Arching his neck, his rolled his muscles and kicked up his hind limbs in a buck. It was a show of raw power and strength, as well as vitality. Those were three things that others needed to know he possessed right from the start. If his size and strength did not warn others into obedience, his words and diplomacy would swiftly knock their worlds from underneath them. Settling down, his muscles flexed beneath his skin, shifting against the bones as he waited for the herd to present it's self.
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