this love [open]

[dreamer]

Not Exactly Cute was his show name, but around the stable, most knew him as Ex. That day, Ex was out in the paddocks, waiting for something fun to happen. He had no owner, so he never really had a set schedule for being ridden or anything. Even though he was a nice looking horse, he was a purebred Friesian, he was just too stubborn. It always depended on the day, and who was there, for what time he would be exercised. He was pretty hard to handle at times. But at that moment, Ex looked perfectly calm. He had his large head lowered to the ground, grazing a bit on the grass that surrounded him. This went on for a few minutes, him just standing there, grazing. His ears suddenly flicked forward a bit, and his head shot up. Letting out a high whinny, he bolted across the paddock, head high and tail blowing out behind him.

There seemed to be no reason for his sudden run, besides simply wanting to run. His flicked away a fly that landed on his rump with his tail, letting out another low whicker and shaking out his mane. He was now in the way back of the paddock, but after thinking for a second he figured that no one would be able to come see him if he was way back there. So, very leisurely, he trotted back to the very front of the paddock. His ears flicked way forward again, and he swore he could hear a human walking over. Ex stuck his head over the top rail of the fence, his dark eyes scanning for any sign of a human. He wanted attention. Waiting a minute or two, he couldn't tell if anyone was coming. So he made another high whinny, hoping to get some kind of response from anyone at all.

[Alexandrite Xavier Darke]

Demon's Pride

Thunder, it was the sound of his hooves striking the stones beneath his weight, it was the vibrations that shook his body as it ripped across the track, It was the pounding of his heart as his heavy strides tore him across the finish line, it was the blinding flash of white light as the camera snapped, a image forever ingrained into history, thunder was the very core of his nature.

His mind blocked everything but the speed, the agony in his body, the wind that ripped through his mane, the sound of his heart, the thunder of his hooves striking the ground, everything else... didn't even exist. It was in his blood, nothing but the thrill of the race, moving with a confidence that made it clear that he knew every shift of his muscle, could feel when anything went wrong, but right now, with the pain ripping through his body, everything felt wrong... everything but the need to run.

The shuddering breath pulled from the brute's chest as it tore around the field, the muscles in its body straining until they almost tore from the effort to keep the heavy body moving, four miles without pause, his body shook from the strain, sweat pouring in rivers though he creases of his muscles, his mane long soaked, ripped like a banner against the sky. Each breathe that tore from his lungs shook him to the core with that need to feel the thrill of racing against hundreds of others, fighting to cross the line ahead of the others, he remembered when that had turned into a fight to survive.

The sound of his hooves striking the stone of the field lashed out into the air like a rolling crack of thunder across the sky, like the pounding of his heart as he swept across the field, his obsidian coat glistening in the light, when they had seen him off the reins of control they came to one conclusion... he would run until he died.