Post by ADMIN-SAMA! on Aug 26, 2009 12:48:54 GMT -5
Strength is the ability to be firm; physically, emotionally, mentally, intellectually, and spiritually. It's the ability to take the harshest critique and be able to hold back the wall when you're on the verge of a breakdown. To be able to fight back, hold your head high, and not let the poisonous traits get through to you, especially when your guard is down. Am I strong? I believe so. I've had my heart and my head broken, every bone in my body shattered, but yet I managed to prosper. I built my own world, and climbed to the top. There is a difference between emotional strength and physical strength. Emotional strength is being able to flourish, no matter how fucked up or wired you are. Physical strength is being able to fight and conquer your antagonist with pride, and dig their hollow grave. I've battled both and won. Does that truly make me strong?
Her delicate pillars burned. From the bottom of her hooves, to the pasterns, to the coronets, to the ergots, to the fetlocks, to the cannon bone, up to the knee, the forearms, then the elbows. Every muscle in each leg secretly whined in exhaustion, working together with the pacing heart, increasing with each pulsation of the fist-sized muscle. Blood charged through the veins, pumping through thousands of overworked veins and arteries. Hoof beats upsurged; pounding the terrain before meeting with atmos again. The fae's ashen bodice shined thoroughly, slicked with a decent amount of perspiration, with the exception of her whipcords. Rust colored tendrils tinted with gold whipped through the wind, dancing and twirling together like flexible gymnasts. Nares flared, deep intakes of oxygen were inhaled, replaced by exhales of carbon dioxide. Beryl hues searched frantically at her surroundings, looking for prey to hopefully pursue; to taunt, tease, and manipulate. It was all a game for the vixen, a sick, twisted scheme that results with the victim standing on the unstable line that separates life and death.
There is only one reason I'm strong. One mere body of existence keeps me sane. Her name is Sunday. She's the articulation in my mind; the voice that tears at me with acid words. She's real, I'm dead serious. They all say I'm paranoid, that I'm fucking crazy and I need help. I know she's there, and that one day she'll prove her subsistence. She's a curse; and I want her out of my dial, but if she leaves, I'll crack. I despise her, yet she's the only one I love. She's scared me in to adoring her, it's the only option I have. She's so fucking dense.
Faster bitch, faster! Sunday screamed, crippling the femme in to a vicious headache. Cranium lowered to the foliage, hind legs met with the atmos in protest to the voice's demands. Her mere response was pain; head splitting, torturing pain. Fire burned inside the back of the brain, similar to a spreading wild fire. Muzzle lifted to the air, an ear popping shriek ripped from her throat, almost enough to break the sound barrier. Heart pulsing, the slim bodice dodged, bended, and swerved around towering trees, sheer inches away from the breaking bark. Stalking nothing but mere air, the fae broke through the dense forest and in to a large opening. Without warning, rain drops fell from the thick, slate-colored clouds that clung to the air. The shower of water fell over her frame, soaking through the sweat and her pearl coat, right through to the bare skin. An icy shiver crawled up her spine, sinking it's way in to her muscling like a burning knife. Power forced to a halt, all force pushed on to the hind legs, bunched in attempt to stop. Haunches rounded and chest protruded, the fae quickly regained posture. The dame dipped her head in one swift movement, emitting a loud snort that vibrated every inch of her body. Inclining her cranium, the girl stretched a pillar to punch at the ground. Grass and soil was uplifted, disturbed by the unnecessary action. Azure orbs observed the opening, searching for meat to close her jaws around, sink her dentals in to, and taste the warm, crimson liquid that satisfies her hunger. Crown lifted to the sky, the dame observed the glistening guiders, illuminating the celestial sphere and bragging about their existence. With a chilling cackle, the fae presented her seething animosity for the world and every moving thing on it. Nape outstretched and dial held at a fierce angle, the 15.2hh mare awaited a being to step out before her.
TESTING JUSTIFY XD