Post by Cadenza on Nov 8, 2006 19:13:50 GMT -5
A figure leaned up against the stall door of which contained a pretty young mare. Her name was Molly, and she belonged to this particular figure. She wasn't quite sure of him yet, but she knew that she liked him a good deal more than her previouse owner. Her previouse owner had been fat, and carried the stench of old cheese. She disliked that.
The figure, was infact, the son of the fat man. His name was Deveral, and he was the prince of Kaskelale. Not that he took much pride in that fact, or in his father. Infact, he was rather displeased with the whole situation. More than displeased. Appalled. Disgusted. Horrified. His father was a monster, and his father had ruined what had once been good in this world.
Deveral (he would be more pleased if you where to call him Deven) was a tall boy, with dark hair, and the same stunning green eyes that his father possessed. Not that he looked like a spitting image of his father. His features were much softer, and he was much slimmer. Definatly more attractive than his father, anyone could agree, though they would keep thier opinion to themselves for fear of a hanging. That was how bad times had gotten.
Thouroughly distressed, Deven ran a slender hand through his dark hair. He filled his cheecks with air, then blew out quickly in a form of a sigh. how had things gotten so bad? He knew he was in line for the throne, but he secretly didn't want to be. He knew that he would make a better ruler than his father, and deep, deep inside, knew that he could make things better, but he had so much self doubt clouding that thought, that he could bearly see it, so much as grasp it. Another thought, that was more visable than the previosuely said, was this. How much longer would he be in line for the throne? would his father really allow it? would he, too, be killed off, so his father could find a more suitable heir to carry out his horrible plan?
Did his father even know that Deven knew what he had planned for the people of Liav? perhaps, but the thought was too frightening, and so was pushed as deep into the mist as it could be forced.
Deven became restless. He needed to get out of here to think for a while. He grabbed the tack that he had layed out a while before, and tossed it onto the filly inside the stall. He gave her a pat and lead her from the enclosure, mounting before he even was out of the building. He ignored the grooms who frowned at tutted at him, and left the stables, leaving only the echoing sound of hooves hitting stone as he clattered away.
The figure, was infact, the son of the fat man. His name was Deveral, and he was the prince of Kaskelale. Not that he took much pride in that fact, or in his father. Infact, he was rather displeased with the whole situation. More than displeased. Appalled. Disgusted. Horrified. His father was a monster, and his father had ruined what had once been good in this world.
Deveral (he would be more pleased if you where to call him Deven) was a tall boy, with dark hair, and the same stunning green eyes that his father possessed. Not that he looked like a spitting image of his father. His features were much softer, and he was much slimmer. Definatly more attractive than his father, anyone could agree, though they would keep thier opinion to themselves for fear of a hanging. That was how bad times had gotten.
Thouroughly distressed, Deven ran a slender hand through his dark hair. He filled his cheecks with air, then blew out quickly in a form of a sigh. how had things gotten so bad? He knew he was in line for the throne, but he secretly didn't want to be. He knew that he would make a better ruler than his father, and deep, deep inside, knew that he could make things better, but he had so much self doubt clouding that thought, that he could bearly see it, so much as grasp it. Another thought, that was more visable than the previosuely said, was this. How much longer would he be in line for the throne? would his father really allow it? would he, too, be killed off, so his father could find a more suitable heir to carry out his horrible plan?
Did his father even know that Deven knew what he had planned for the people of Liav? perhaps, but the thought was too frightening, and so was pushed as deep into the mist as it could be forced.
Deven became restless. He needed to get out of here to think for a while. He grabbed the tack that he had layed out a while before, and tossed it onto the filly inside the stall. He gave her a pat and lead her from the enclosure, mounting before he even was out of the building. He ignored the grooms who frowned at tutted at him, and left the stables, leaving only the echoing sound of hooves hitting stone as he clattered away.