simply DEVIOUS <3

[buster13]

There comes a point in your life when you realise who matters, who never did, who won't anymore, and who always will. So don't worry about the people from your past. There's a reason they didn't make it to your future.

The season was winter. The winds were chilly and brisque, and the trees shed their multi-colored leaves, which rained upon the ground, twirling as the breeze swept them along like a ballerina dancer. The grass, lush and sweet in the heavenly summer, grew hard and brittly, tasteless and dead. The leaves that littered the earth were also dead, lost of their nourishment. The trees lived on, just naked and exposed. The sky was a constant dreary shade or gray, the long, thick clouds splattered across the horizion. The birds flew south, searching for that adored heat that wouldn't grace the lands untill the coming spring, many months away. The winters were harsh, coming in early like a lion and staying that way, dwindling out as spring took over in the latter months of march. The living were pretty much frozen solid as the snow drove them insane, covering their world with a bleak, endless white. It hid the dead greens, their only source of food for the winter, and froze them solid, leaving the hard, tasteless barn upon the trees as a last resort. Any warmth was appreciated, so lands that reeked of heat were pleasurable during these hard months. While winter was still coming in slowly, the weather wasn't so bleak. The greens were still tasty, and the sky was barely tinted an aqua. There, upon a valley, stood a mere wench, her slim azure coat waving in the chilly breeze. Her large, almond eyes were glazed over, tiny knees knocking together. It was difficult being here, totally unknowing and alone. You had to be careful about things. You always had to make sure everything was in order. Some were freaks about making sure everything was in ship-shape fashion, and others were more careless. Creative fit into the careless category. She was young, she liked having a life of her own. She had high spirits, and thrived on the love from others. She was the type that couldn’t stand being alone, needed to have a constant companion. She needed someone to talk to, someone to love. And all that had been taken away from her a few months earlier. Art wasn’t the type who really needed to trust others. If there was someone to talk to, Art was right there, yapping away. She had no boundaries. She was a free girl. Wearing a small frown, the painted vixen walked slowly forth, milky orbs pressed shut. A trickle of tears flooded down her glowing fascade, raining lightly upon the leafy ground. Violent sobs rattled her bones, un-controllable shaking pulsing through her weak carcass. She was a wreck. And it was all because of Terau. Just thinking about her name made the shaking turn more violent, seizing the frail contessa and giving her a harsh rattle. Large gulps of the crisp mountain air was quickly inhaled, passing slowly through her winding chassis. Feeling faint, Art was forced to her knees, falling roughly against the frozen ground. Sinking a good six inches into the snow, she grew cold, a hot, burning sensation throbbing through her slender stilts. Thin boa was lowered, skull crashing against the drift. Squeezing her watery-blue orbs tightly shut, Art prepared for death, raspy breaths forced through her flared paper thins. But the devil wasn’t to take her today. The shaking slowly ceased, a rapid fever raging through her weak immune system. Hacking slightly, the two-toned femora managed to stick her throbbing stilts before herself, standing roughly up. Swaying, the feverish equuid moved into a painful, slow gait that brought her deeper and deeper into the mysterious realm she was taking an un-guided tour through. It was hard work, trying to fight her rapidly increasing fever and the throbbing pain that coursed through her body. The delicate mare’s boa was lowered, almost brushing the leafy abyss that stretched beneath her, milky blue orbs gazing ahead, but just slightly. Creative was looking at the ground more than she was where she was going. That was just the way Art was, she never really seemed to pay attention to much unless it interested her. Hesistating slightly as she came to a split in the worn path, she moved to the left, for there were fresh tracks heading that way. Maybe she would run into someone. Stopping suddenly, Art pondered. She didn’t really want to meet anyone in the state she was in right now, but then again, she really wouldn’t prefer to die. So she followed the tracks. Flint after flint was tediously placed before her as she moved stifly, her normal grace evaporated in the suffering. The thick French blood flew gently through her suffering veins, which throbbed, threatening to explode. These lands were so different from her home, back to the south. A small cry passed through gritted enamels as she placed a triangular flint wrong, twisting slightly as it plunged into a rabbit’s burrow. Tenderly pulling the wounded hock out, Aly flinched as she attempted to put full weight on it, quickly raising her lengthy pillar upward. Everything that could possibly go wrong, had. She was sick, she was wounded, and she had a massive secret. A secret that Art was determined to keep a secret until the time came to tell. Which hopefully wouldn’t be soon, for the cold was just deteriorating the equuid. Heavy steps were taken moving with the tracks, which seemed to be heading a very organized fashion. A steady pace was maintained, due to the spacing of the hooves, which were always the same length apart. But as she followed them deeper and deeper into the very heart of the land, they shortened.


Silence. Quiet, eerie silence. The only sound was the breathing of Creative. The tiny flakes of snow fell freely from the grey sky, which seemed to have no effect on anything around them, just there to drape everything in a thin layer of white. Thick enamels were chattering lightly, her feeble hyde not a contender against the rushing gusts of wind that seemed to drag everything they could get a hold of toward the source. The sky suddenly became quite blurry, spinning two and fro in front of her milky orbs. A small frown formed across a light plush, and then it hit her. She wasn’t breathing. Gasping, a massive breath was downed, the land before her orbs becoming steady once more. That’s right Art, just breath. Breathe in, and out. Repeat. In, out. There, now you’ve got it. Blinking, Art's gaze was cast downward, her shyness taking over. Fluffed tresses hung over her vision line, making the earth look as if it was covered with sunshine-colored trees. Giggling to herself, flints were picked slowly up, lifted neatly above the level of snow that graced the lands. Harks were flicked forward, pricked upright upon her tiara, which was now rising upwards. Where was everyone? And what kept thrashing about in the woods on the far side? Every so often, a bush or tree would suddenly shake violently, and it scared the shit out of Creative, who tensed up almost immediately. She wasn’t fond of random moving objects that she didn’t know what they were. Suddenly, a large brown blob jumped forward, followed by another, and then another! Jumping quickly back, Art was about to turn and run, but the brown blobs were only rabbits hopping through the powder. Sighing, she blushed, reddening up a bit. She was such a baby. It was interesting, the way the sleek rabbits were able to fly so gracefully across the high snow, leaving only their tracks, no impressions from their minisquele weight. They were almost like birds soaring gracefully across the snow. Whipchord swished slowly, tangled in with a few splotches of white snow that clung like burrs. The now had ceased, but would soon again start, Art was positive, but for now, it was nice. The sky cleared a bit, going from a deep grey to a grey-blue, much more pleasant. Clearing her mind, Art concentrated on what had happened. Fidgeting, milky orbs scanned the forest clearing, seeing no one. Mug wrinkled, nares compressing. She didn’t like this. Not one bit. Grumbling lightly to herself, Creative fidgeted as she dug a small, pointless hole in the ground. Triangular shaped flints were gently pressed against the hard earth as the petite frame of a vixen romped forth. pale hyde was shining like a gem in the sunlight, beautiful and priceless. Iridescent blue streaked orbs were directed skyward, seeming to just engulf their gorgeous features, tracking each rolling curve of the grey-blue clouds that moved silently through the light air. They stood out, trying to make as much as a name for themselves as they could, against the deep blue sky that seemed to be endless. A small group of reddish tinted sparrows flew overhead, their orange beaks wide as they cawed a high-pitched tune shrilly. A small frown crossed the small femmora's light plush as the bird's high pitched tune rang loudly in her stumps, seeming louder to her than the bugle of a gladiator nearby trumpeting his claim over the lands to the East. Thick boa was lowered to the greenery below, hard enamels snagging a large mouthful of the tender stalks. They didn't hold their true flavor as they did in the summer, always lush and mouthwatering, while these weren't as good and rather dry. The leaves that were normally lush and green that clung to the trees like they were taped on with super glue were gone, scattered all over the ground, either torn into small pieces or ripped so badly that they were unrecognizable. All showed shades of red, orange, yellow, and brown. A few leaves were speckled with small splotches of green, but only a few selected candidates. Stilts were maneuvered carefully around the fallen leaves, not wanting to crush their already ruined faces. Small, twirling puffs of carbon exited through her nares as the dove breathed, sending smoke signals into the massive atmosphere that surrounded her world. Giving a small sigh, Art pressed forward, wanting to get to the lands of anywhere. It seemed like Art had left years ago, but it was probably only mere hours. Stilts were gracefully extended for each stride the speckled belle took, gently and carefully placing each pedestal against the rough earth. Wearing a small smile upon her plush, a faster pace was picked up, throwing the belle into a smooth two beat, the landings of her flints somewhat heavier and more jarring. Long tresses were flopping upon her boa and skull, just seeming to poof them up even more. A small shake was given to her tiara, trying to rid her orbs of the stuff, but it only prevailed in making an even bigger mess. What a day.


Beauty[/b] just seemed to course through the massive lands called Equivation that Creative had luckily stumbled upon. Luck. Art seemed to be a princess when it came to luck. And it was really all she had ever wanted, all she had ever needed. Art needed all of that. All she really needed was someone to love her, someone she could love back, feel special around and not like some worthless gilr. But that was just it. Art wasn't special. She was downright insecure. She had never deserved to be treated special any time in her life, and now she was making her way toward who knows where. Oh god, what had she done? Enamels bit her kissers, an expression on worry burrowing deep into her orbs. She had screwed up. She didn't deserve anything. She would just end up being ignored and left alone by the beauty of the others. A violent shaking ran through her small carcas, rattling her down to the bone. This was all going so very wrong. Kissers quivered like a cold creature would in a snowstorm, frightened and freezing. Thin skull was turned backward for a brief moment to make sure no one was following her, stalking her, maybe some sick jerk. Hazel orbs were large with fright, and as she turned back, it was too late. A massive tree was looming right, smack dab in front of her, and while she was looking away, Art, smartly, had managed to smash right into it. Knees crumpled and the small frame of the vixen came crashing to the ground, landing with a sickening thud. Everything was spinning in fast circles, and the ground below her seemed to rattle violently. Massive shocks of pain coursed through her petite body, shooting down every single limb, sending with the shocks electrifying shots of pain that seemed to never go away. Art chuckled slightly to herself, which she thought seemed rather stupid, but then again, she was pretty stupid for walking smack-dab into the tree. Sighing at her stupidity, she just lay there, looking up at the sky until a massive figure loomed above her, a concerned look upon their face. Scrambling quickly to her feet, the femora swaggered slightly. She had gotten up too fast. Getting a rather bad headache, she assured the other that she was fine and walked on. Flints struck the earth softly, smashing the browned greenery below as she two-beated across the flat plateau. Shaking her cranium, Creative laughed at herself, feeling somewhat happy for the first time in two years.


Shining fir trees seemed to just sparkle as the sunlight hit them, reflecting like a gorgeous Christmas ornament hanging from a small tree, stashed with presents under its bottom. They would all be wrapped in bright paper with massive bows stuck perfectly on top, looking more perfect than the pictures in catalogs. Everything seemed to be perfect in Equivation, every little tree, from the largest terrain to the smallest stalk of greenery, it all shined like a ruby in the sunlight, gleaming with everything it had, never getting tired. But Creative felt like the one thing in the lands that wasn't perfect. She had once been something near perfect, but her light had burned out years back, leaving her the broken, un-wanted little gem sitting in the window of a jewelry store next to all the glistening diamonds. She was never chosen, just left sitting there, alone. As the icy wind picked up, it grabbed onto her whipcord, streaming them behind Art's rump like streamers in the wind. They snapped, smacked, cracked, and whipped themselves in every possible way, trying to pull away like a kite does once caught in a good gust of wind, pulling as hard as it can against a thin strand of wire. But they almost never escape, just get caught in trees. Which Art didn't plan of doing. A faint beating of hooves startled her, but it was so far off Art didn't even see whatever it was. A small smile broke out upon her plush as the little puffs of carbon that were emitted from her nares blew into little clouds, disappearing only after a few seconds in the atmosphere. A minuscule rabbit hopped gleefully in her tracks, its enormous spheres staring curiously up into hers, little nose twitching at an exhilarating pace. With a quick twitch of its tail, it was off, bounding across the earth and disappearing into a small bush covered with nothing. Winter had been here such a long time, it was beginning to get somewhat scary. Winter was occasionally long, but never this late in season. It was like it had just disappeared or something. Just the thought of something being wrong with her world made a massive chill run quickly down her curvature, pushing pins and needles into every tiny crevice. Flinching slightly, a fore flint was thrust upon the solid ground, producing a clear, crisp ring that seemed endless. It was nice hearing something besides silence, for everything, everyone, every tree, bird, equine, and heart seemed deaf to her ears. The only thing Art could hear was her own heart pounding in her harks as a nasty image of her past flashed across her chalk-pale fascade.

Some[/color] seemed to think that the painted mare was snide. It was true, she was, but the mare didn't seem to care. She was rough, she was tough, and hell, she didn't give a damn. Low grunt snorted through her flared paperthins, and with a quick spin of her heels, the sable mare was off, bleached flints thundering across the wet earth at her feet. Long tresses flew behind Art's large frame, whipping, snapping, streaming out behind her. The winter breeze slammed into her face, pushing against her as she flew forth, wanting to get as far away from everything as possible, to just be alone. But it seemed impossible, for every corner the bewildered mare turned she spotted someone lurking, or doing something stupid. Orbs rolled in their sockets in annoyance, and with a flash, she steamed forth, moving farther and farther away from everyone else, and deeper and deeper into the heart of the lands. Pace was eventually slowed to a lolling canter, a thin layer of sweat drenching the hot headed mare's spotted coat. She was sick. She was sick sick sick. She was tired. She was sick and tired. Sick and tired of everything in the world. Bleached mug was lifted toward the deep blue sky. Glazed orbs scanned the area, and a low sigh passed through her nares as the relieved mare found herself finally alone. What a relief. Stupid birds cawed arrogantly, their slender wings gliding along upon the breeze, their stubby beaks cracked, bleating an endless call that had to rhythm, to tune, just noise. Art found herself hating being alone more and more, with no one to snubb or taunt, prod or aggrivate, and with a groan, she thin girl was on her feet again, moving deeper into the lands. The grass seemed to be more and more sparse the further she walked, and the sun was blocked by massive trees looming overhead. It was just delicious. Grey-blue orbs scanned before her, and found not one, but a group. A massive group, brimming with the horny mares in heat trying to escape the tight grip of these lands. This must be claiming. Orbs rolled. She would not let just any boy steal her heart and whisp her slimy carcas away. No, she was a fighter, and she wanted someone, oh, different. A sexy beastie. And that sexy beastie would be here soon.

NOTES.

• UGH.
  
• Finished
  
• 3200 + words
  
• I apolgize for the cruddyness
  

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