Post by Rhapsody on Apr 19, 2011 18:32:02 GMT -5
Azami
[/font]_________________________________________________[/center][/size]The water lapped greedily at her off-white hooves as the mare stood fetlock deep in the water, staring out into the horizon with an impassive face. It was like this every time she left and every time she returned; that feeling of indecision, of hesitation. Azami had a love-hate relationship with the islands and the lead stallion they housed. Boaz. Most would have been utterly confused by the complicated, twisting relationship the two had. After all, Azami's dam had been the mare that captured Boaz's heart, only to be stolen by Marek and bred to, producing Azami and her twin, Lumiere. Things became even more twisted when considering that Azami was the spitting image of her mother (which was probably the motivation behind Boaz having stolen Azami when she was two). Since that time, Azami had grown into adulthood with Boaz playing both father and... something else, something far from fatherly and much more... questionable. Azami saw it, lingering there in the back of his gaze when she caught him looking at her. That little glint of something that she herself perceived as physical attraction. She knew it was there, or strongly believed it anyway, and she played off of it when it suited her. After all, Boaz loathed her random comings and goings, but if Azami catered to that physical magnetism the two seemed to possess? Well, his anger certainly had never been anything she had feared too terribly much. Why fear it when she believed she could get herself out of it with just a little brush of the muzzle here or flick of the tail (accidentally brushing him too) there? Hardly a frightening situation to confront.
But her freedom; she loved it so, loved running on dry land, perhaps getting into a scrape here and there and causing some trouble for her family members at times. But in the end, she always reverted to that two year old filly that had followed Boaz's imposing form across Asedenn, through the water and to the islands. The islands were home; Boaz was home. Confusing as it all was. With the islands (and him) serving as her guiding beacon, the mare reared up suddenly, a piercing shriek leaving her mouth, telling him, telling him she was coming. And then, she charged. Into the water she went, water spraying up around her lithe frame as her hooves lost contact with the bottom of the lake, legs churning methodically to keep her afloat. Though the dark clouds overhead blocked the sun, she knew it was still morning and the tide was in. She'd made this journey enough times to know when it was safest to depart (Boaz had taught her to begin with, on that initial voyage). On she went, keeping her strokes slow and steady; just enough to keep her head up (most of the time anyway). Her eyes narrowed with determination as she kept going, determined that come hell, high water (or the alleged 'gods') she was making it to the shore of the nearest island. She knew he would be there awaiting her. Well 'gods'? Is this all you can throw at me? I've done this before and I'll do it again, all in spite of you and your false powers. She sneered mentally as her head broke through the surface after dipping below it, coughing angrily and pushing onward.
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