the geo was washed with the shadows of evening. the first star, the evening star had just winked its first light. an appoloosa femme caught this in the corner of her eye and turned her elegant tiara to catch the gleaming spot in her deep ebony orbs. For a moment her determined strides ceased as she marveled at the great spanse and beauty of the sky that hovered over head.

A cool chill in the air made the hairs on the back of her neck stand up- yet she pressed on.
she did not know where she was headed, yet she was determinded to keep walking. the calm of her home had become opressive, she snorted is slight disgust as she thought of the terra of her mate. it and the leader did not suit her, there was too much evil in her heart for them to take any place in. she had tried for a time, to please the brute who had claimed her, yet as she did something in her died.

Determinded to get that something back she had left under the cover of darkness and it had now been two days since she had left the river. There was no sign of anyone on her tail - for which she was grateful. she hoped Red would come to his senses too and move on.

With a low, sharp nicker she frightened a bird from its roost, the sight of its frantic flutterings away from her made her sneer.
She looked around in search of equines. There were signs, old hoof prints, old dung, yet nothing to indicate that any fellows were near. Relvelling in the solitude she galloped to a small hillock and skidded to a halt, whinnying as her hooves dug deep into the soft soil, leaving two long ruts in her path.

Rearing high the appoloosa struck the air and let out a long cry, a cry of freedom, a cry the could chill to the bone.
The echo of her scream flooded the valley and Nyalah smiled, landing and raising her cran once again to the heavens.

Alone in the secluded spot above the rocky cliff, stood the wavering old czar. Flecks of alabastor smeered across his azure hue, ebon orbs half closed, drifting in and out of an old man's slumber. Beneath the shade of his trusted oak, where so many years ago he had stood, tall and muscular aboard this mountain banners aflag, and the courage and strength as a lion. Now he stood, one slender apendage cocked to saver the pain of his arthritic knees. Though old he was, still his deminear was eccentric, always upbeat and a joy to those who stood around him. He had been the Torn's king for decades, trusted and wisened he now was. For only once had he made a mistake, though it was the biggest of them all. That was alliancing with the Shadows, handing over their fate to the d.amned creatures. But soon, the turmoil would be over. For his heir, his last child, would be born and the new king would arise. Thus, he would last until the coltine grew up, teaching him to be on his own and to know who the alliance should follow.

A whinney shattered his peaceful status. His noble tiara flung high, surprisingly quit for a brute of his age. Sonars immediately cupped, for he was yet to recognize the call. Few members resided in his herem, thus each call he knew by heart. He moved forward, now visible upon his ghastly mountain, his serious and prideful features seen as a gust of wind uptook the mountain. He no longer looked old, tired, and worn, he was regeal blossoming and youthful. It seemed not that he could no longer battle, it seemed of no importance to even worry. He had gained the respect of a king, no fool would challenge him now. But the thought didn't even need to cross his mind, for it was a vix that emited the tunes, not a foolish young colt looking for power.

He was plainly viewed upon his hilltop by the fae, for a meer second his lucid visionaries locked onto hers, then in an instant, he had wheeled and was lazily loping at his ease down the bend of the mountain until he came to the fresh geo beneath him, and the smooth grass uptook his flints. His arthritis behind him, his finely boned and featured cranium held closely to his nape, bumping his chest with every swaggeringly perfected stride. Slowly, he grunted slightly as the arthritis aimed back into his hind knees as he leaned upon them, and once he stopped it took the old czar a moment to catch his shortened breath. Seconds later, and he held his tiara high watching the belle before him with an wisened ease, then parted distinct librims, and his deep rumbling boom vocals echoed towards her,

"Welcome fae, what brings you to Shadow Valley?"Slow, deep tunes wandered towards the faes sonars. Moon studied her silently, she seemed to be troubled, perhaps that was her reason for intruding.

the spotted fae raised her elegant tiara to face the sky and her orbs caught the figure of the lone stag. at such a distance his age was not determinable, but as soon as he began his steep descent, Nyalah knew of his age. so this is the King. the thought resounded in her dreambox for a moment.
he arrived suprisingly quickly before her. at his lyricals she dipped her proud tiara.

I do not wish to intrude. she whispered softly. her lyricals were sweet, yet the sugar that was her words were laced with venom. She raised her crown again to a height that was just below rudeness in the presence of the King and parted her librims to speak again.
I came in search of my fellow torns. I only wish to visit your valley. i pose no threat. she whispered again, not wanting to provoke such an equine- knowing that his age was no disability to him.

a sudden gush of harsh, cold wild blasted past the equines. its fierce fingers pulled at Nyalah's tassels, creating dancing cobras along her arched neck. she threw her crown, forcing her long forelock into the wind and out of her mahogany orbs.
She fixed the king with her deep penetrating stare, her orbs bearing through his flesh into the depths of the very being.

Moon shifted hazily upon his arthritc knees, he grunted quietly at the pain that shot up to his hindquarters. Dismissing it with one flick of his azure flecked banner, he heard her lyrics, almost in a passive manner. Years of being king reminded him that even those who told him they posed no threat, always were. Yes, she had his trust in a few simple words, yet the trust was not whole. Parts of it fell to his lack of belief, though she should not have felt angered by these, she was not the first, nor would she be the last. Or would she? It seemed not a day went by that he asked the same question to himself? Is this the day? No, it would not be, not until he had seen the reign of his kingdom go fulfilled by the blood of his own, only then would he finally let go and pass on, into the other world. One nod of his noble cerebrum gave her the indication that he accepted her words, without another trace or sign of his coming reply he turned slowly, to return back to his ledge over his kingdom. Though somewhat incertain, he granted her the knowledge to follow him. Moving at a snails pace he never once lost footing, or dropped his noble crown. He never once looked behind him to see whether or not she chose to follow, he simply passed slowly by an old elm he had seen grow through it's entire lifetim and spoke again, low sorrowful tunes,

"What is it they call you dear fae?"

That was all. Making his way slowly back up to his perch he would let her see the equines that wandered the lands, let her see what she had come to know. What there was no point in seeking, for there was nothing there to find.

The spotted fae was slightly startled when the King moved away, yet she knew to follow. Admiration and awe swept through her as she followed the King back to his high throne. He is so old, yet he is the King he would have been in his youth. she could not help but smile. In her distraction her hoof caught on a loose rock and she stumbled for a moment, embarrassment washing over her.
She moved up behind the King and gasped as she looked over his terra. She had seen nothing so beautiful in her entire life. At his words, she shook her tiara gently.
I be dubbed, Nyalah.she whispered softly, her words almost lost.

Still, the worn king gave no indication that he heard, or even saw, her stumble through the bitter rocks. His attention, focused intently on nothing more than making it safely back to his reigning relief, was kept taught as the footing became more coarse, and his warfare began. Slowly, ever slowly, he began his climb of the hill, never once losing his kingly stature, his eyes focused resignly ahead of him, for he knew his path, he had wandered it for more than 20 years. Nothing was ever out of place, nothing ever disobeyed him, he had the air about him that claimed everything from another. Respect, intelligence, obediance. Never had he had to undergo someone's distinct, hateful pride against him, nobody bothered. Nobody every wanted to say they had abandoned their king, for even though clearly over 20, and his pace, indeed slower than slow, he could snap in an instant, and tear anyone down. But his kind eyes never let it show, no anger, no misery, he kept only one thing distinctly there, and that was pride. He was proud ot call these lands his, proud that he had dominantly reigned for over 15 years of servatude. Though his lost that youthful spring in his step as he continued the treacherous climb, he was the king, he was the Blue Moon.

Nyalah What a sweet name it was, beautiful, gorgeous. What did it remind him so greatly of, that it created a tear of joy in his eye. Then it came to him, like a wave of warm carresses Jasmine The undoubtful love of his life, forever into eternity Smiling to himself, his regal crown bobbing with every painful thrust his hindlegs ensured him to move forward, and suddenly, they were there. The stoop of his perch hung into the air, mighty rocks beneath it holding it in it's place. The brim, covered in lush, sprouting emerald grass looked untouched, as though the sun shone down upon it everyday, and the rain kept it beautiful and lively. He stood upon it, alone at first, waiting for the fae to brink the horizon, as the sun now setting, fell slowly. It was surely a sight to see, the regal figure, lean, shapely, proud, set abound by the shimmering sunset, the soft breeze that always comforted him, like a whisper from Jasmine, billowing his tressed gently so they twirled around his hind legs and blew back the silken mane.

He lifted his arched crown into the air, mug facing the wind and the sun, closing his eyes serenly, here, he was home. Home. Home. This was his dream. His reality. This was his life. He opened his eyes and let his tiara fall back against his nape, turning at an angle to face Nyalah, his tunes were quiet as though not wishing to disturb the peace. For indeed there was a beautiful quietness about the land, lovely, comfortable, a dream.

"This is what you seek for, Nyalah. This is the world's dream."

And with that, he faced back out over the lands, indeed they were a sight to see. Beautiful! The great basin like valley, the lush trees and grasses sprouting about the lands, the sun boldly setting behind the highrise, saying goodnight, but not finally leaving the dream.

the painted tess cast her orbs over the geo, them resting on the ever changing hue of the sky. She whickered slightly, watching the blood red hue change to the deepest purple imaginable.
"World's dream, yes." she murmered, taking in the sheer beauty the surrounded her. In truth her home was quaint in its beauty, a small bubbling stream, lush grass and full trees. But the geo upon which her deep ebony orbs were now cast filled her with hopes and dreams. The sheer cliffs, deep valleys, the seas of grass and the great expanse of sky filled her heart with longing. Longing for something that she would never have, that one like she could never gain. She quivered slightly, both at the thought and the growing night.