Post by theft on Nov 28, 2006 19:23:39 GMT -5
Elite bleached steed entered the land, his limbs working like mighty pistons to propel him up an unstable dune. The ridges in the sand were playing tricks on him, he saw a thousand snakes sprawled out and squirming beneath his perch. He crouched there ready-like to spring from an invisible shoot. He blinked, erasing the snakes from his site and focusing on the hot desert sun. With a swift flex he upraised himself on his hind legs, throwing his nose up and tossing he neck back. If it wasn't for his sturdy Spanish build, he might of flipped over back-wards. Yes, this is Majesty; that same old bloke who had been around since the Fields first began.
He was well advanced in years, almost reaching forty but hadn't overcome quite enough season for that yet. Those good ole' Spanish horses, they reach their peek in their fifties, and Majesty was well on his way. Coming down from his levade he braced his forelimbs against he weak sand falling out from beneath his hooves. Majesty was known and probably teased for the gentle nature about him. He was the brawniest of foals, but just couldn't get enough of those sweet spring flowers. But the blood of war boiled within him- good ole' Spain, they've done well with their horses.
He presumed his previous poise, tucking his nose in slowly and arching it. My, what a monstrous thing he looked then. Mock him, I dare you. Take on the sweet little stud you've only known as Majesty. That rippling core, his cut shoulders, those lightning quick limbs. Are you intimidated?
He was well advanced in years, almost reaching forty but hadn't overcome quite enough season for that yet. Those good ole' Spanish horses, they reach their peek in their fifties, and Majesty was well on his way. Coming down from his levade he braced his forelimbs against he weak sand falling out from beneath his hooves. Majesty was known and probably teased for the gentle nature about him. He was the brawniest of foals, but just couldn't get enough of those sweet spring flowers. But the blood of war boiled within him- good ole' Spain, they've done well with their horses.
He presumed his previous poise, tucking his nose in slowly and arching it. My, what a monstrous thing he looked then. Mock him, I dare you. Take on the sweet little stud you've only known as Majesty. That rippling core, his cut shoulders, those lightning quick limbs. Are you intimidated?
