Speak When Spoken To {CLOSED}

[Velnias]

D A N C E with the D E V I L

Don't you dare look at him in the eye

2 months ago

The trees blew with incomparable force. One could guess the gods themselves were blowing their breath through the trees, and making a racket o their anger. Luckily, he’d left that behind. The dark horse was merely a shape made of shadows moving listlessly between the trees, seemingly without a purpose, or was he? He emerged from the place where the forest ended. In the dark of night, they merely stopped. But in the daytime, when the sun shines on the battleground of blood-lusting, one could see that the trees had been burned away. The outer casings of the trees left standing were blackened and dead, and it was the same several trunks deep into the woods. But the sun never shined here, did it? The soil underfoot transformed into hard, cracked dirt and then slick, smooth rock. The rock was an endless floor, streaked with gray and black, and spattered with dried, encrusted blood. But how did anyone know that, if the sun never shined, the clouds never parted, and you never, ever in the heat of battle, took your eyes off your enemy to look at the ground? A textbook example of the imaginative minds of te morituri. The dead who in body, are about to die, must have something to pass on, if not a legacy, so they pass on a story. But the only reminder now of those old days of bloodshed, more than 200 years prior to the present, was the scattered bones bumping up out of the smooth rock surface. They had molded with the rock, and eventually would disintegrate. No more fresh blood ran over the rocks. It had long since dripped into the sea just short miles away, where the haunting Crumbling Cliffs stood shaking.

A second horse, his figure cloaked in the black mist of night, seemed to step out of thin air. Rather, he emerged from a tiny crack in space, standing before the dark black stallion as if expecting him. The night fell around the second stallion and furled around his hooves like a wispy black mist. The first stallion felt naked before him, and his broad stature was imposed upon by the height of the other, though both brutes were made as if of the same darkness, the same lurking impression, the same dark mystery that ebbed about them individually and ebbed around each other when there they stood, face to face, two eyes searching for the other hidden pair, and the hidden pair scrutinizing the whole being of the black stallion with the dark crimson legs and broad crimson-bloodied face that shone almost too pure a color in the night, a time too swathed in evil stories to bear the presence of any color but the darkest ebony. And yet even the night itself couldn’t control it, but instead made the colorings brighter. And he had blue eyes, a cold contrast of the hot-blooded red.

The cloaked one spoke first. ”It should be you swathed in a cloak. I have naught to hide.”
“Neither should I. My Lord.” His voice was deep, though not so booming, but slow and each word was definite, as if a statement of its own, and each statement seemed to fade or hiss away in the very final fraction of its pronunciation.
The taller one raised his head a fraction of an inch. His voice boomed deeper. ”You have considered my offer.” It was not a question.
”Yes, my Lord.”
”You have chosen wisely.”
A pause.
”I’ve been recruiting.”
”Of course, of course…” Any normal horse would cringe at those words, too lightly spoken for anything concerning the matter in which they spoke. His voice hissed. ”You will prove yourself to me. I hope you learn quickly.”
”I know what to do, my Lord.”
”Do not fail me.”
”I have already succeeded. In fooling perhaps the most crucial of assets to the enemy cause, my Lord.”
The tall one nodded. ”We will speak soon.”
”My Lord,” the horse lowered his eyes and let his head dip a fraction, remembering well how his master despised groveling.
The cloaked figure was swallowed up in his misty robe, dissipating into nothing more than air in a fraction of a second. The stallion, uncloaked as though he was, slipped back into the shadows of the trees. Breaking into a jog, he seemingly melted behind a tree, into darkness, into thin air, and vanished.

WORDS no clue
MUSE epic!!!!!!!!!!
NOTES I haven't releaved Mr. Evil's secret identity yet...it wil be up to you, hoss, to do whenever/however you choose, but I'll need to know, of course.