> Tryout for Dark Queen.

[NERYS.]

name. NERYS.
gender. MARE.
age. FOUR.
heritage. MONGREL.
colour. DARK BAY - MANE AND TAIL ARE BLACK.
alliance. DARKNESS.
rank. DARK QUEEN.

sample. There was nothing to guide her against the dark foreground of the night; the stars had shrivelled and died with the fading of the sun and the moon had yet to rear its ugly head from the clouds. There was no wind to hint at anything coming towards where she stood - no sound to tell her what was there and what was not, it was silent in a way that was both eerie and ghostly with the way that nothing came and nothing faded with time.

It had been many days since she had seen another creature and she was irritated to great vexation. Although the solitude was welcomed—she would not deny that to her mind or her soul—it got tiresome after a while and the spirits had since retreated with the last hours of the sun. She had no-one to talk to and the void feeling inside of her mind screamed for something to happen and for anything to come along and take her away from the boredom that enraptured her—for anything to alleviate the state of dead pain that pulsed through her like blood she could not touch.

After a moment of staring dully into the abyss that greeted her eyes, the creature stirred and exhaled. For all her blessings and her curses, she had been holding her breath and the begging of her lungs had inspired her to release the carbon dioxide within her mouth and take in a new mouthful of oxygen that her body so dearly craved. Without air, there was no life, and without life, there was nothing. Many-a-thoughts drifted around in her head and she did not utter any of them, transfixed on the gloom that rose around her like a sluggish river and waiting.

But what she was waiting for never came. The annoyance increased to a level that was beyond vexation; her eyes told her that she was being deceived and that no-one would come. Every muscle in her body tensed up until Nerys felt immobilised and trapped within her own loosely-based fears and the silence that trickled down her throat and choked her like an anaconda. Her ears flickered vainly in the attempt to catch and hear something but a feeling of deafness swept upon her like the plague and she was nothing. Sound and speech escaped her and she was left defenceless—simply watching for another figure.

Something whispered to her and peace moved over her like a fog, capturing her senses and slowly relaxing her. The spirits were back—uttering ballads within her ears and praises of a better life that she could not reach, no matter how hard she tried. Said ghosts were her friends, prompting her to move and run into the demise that awaited her, but she did not no what demise it was, even if she could see beyond the billowing gloom that had risen up from the storm that had passed over a few days prior. She closed her eyes with unbridled hope, clinging to the remnants of a white horse that appeared in front of her guarded eyelids and took a step towards it.

Eyes closed, Nerys took another step and the wind came. It battered against her and blew the white horse away, something that upset her so greatly that she opened her eyes with a furious aura and threw herself into a run, chasing after the apparition. Onlookers would see her blindly following and screaming for something that did not exist, but to her, they were all blasphemous. They did not see the glory of the other side and the gods that awaited her when she finally gave up living and joined them to become their matriarch. She ate up the ground with renewed vigour, voice growing higher in pitch as she searched with hidden desperation.

And she found nothing, forced to a halt because something had just entered her mind. Abbacus, and she was almost sick, words forming in her brain but not falling from her mouth. Great levels of fury entered her bloodstream and Nerys stared out at the desolate hills that she had come to; the home that her subconscious had led her to without her consent. A look of false serenity crossed her face and she moved towards the rises at a slower pace, confidence staining her once-frenzied body. She would not tell him that she had almost cheated on him with the white horse.

She would not tell him that aforementioned horse had fled and insulted her by leaving her presence. He would not believe her; he merely humoured her when she told him tales of the spirits that visited her and praised her. Anger bubbled up within the mare again and she struck the ground with a raging hoof, eyeing the destruction of the cut-up grass that she had inflicted upon the earth. Snorting and tossing her head with smug nobility, the Queen waltzed over the mark of her anger and went off to find her King. She would blame the damage on someone else.

[A B A C C U S]

Looks good deary.