Post by Moonie!! <33 on Dec 13, 2009 23:45:24 GMT -5
It was with dead eyes that the stocky black and white stallion stared out of his pen, as if he was only there in body. The horse had presence - it was hard to overlook a horse that was quite so striking - it was just that he wasn't quite there. And so he was ignored. That suited him just fine.
Runework was not so much a downtrodden horse as having simply given up on caring what happened to him. He was not fast enough to escape, though certainly if his strength came into play he might have gotten away, had he tried. It hadn't occurred to him that though he was not fast, his strength may be his saving grace. It made him worth something, good for heavy lifting. He would also have been a good fighter, had he been that way inclined, but the sabino stallion was very much of the opinion (not that he ever said anything) that violence was never the answer.
His intelligence also may have made him worth more, depending on the master, had he been the type to show it, but Runework was a humble horse, and so hid any talent that may make him seem better than another. As far as many were concerned, Rune was just another slave, albeit an enormous one for his height.
Even in less-than-ideal condition, Rune was quite a heavily built horse. He was certainly not an agile stallion, lacking in speed and manoeuvrability. But his strength was nearly unparalleled. He had never met a horse that could outdo him in a show of sheer brute strength.
Letting out his breath in a deep sigh, the piebald Gypsy stallion shifted his weight from one heavily feathered hind leg to the other. It was a few days ago now that he'd arrived here once again, and he hadn't been allowed to move much in that time. Rune looked askance at the slaver who was selling him, after permission to move more, but was told no, and figured he could deal with that for just a little longer.
The flies were d*mn near unbearable, buzzing around his face and biting his flanks and legs, but Runework ignored them, occasionally flicking his long, thick black tail in an effort to shift them. The problem with Horse Head Field was that the air didn't move, so it was very heavy on sickness, decay, and flies. And it stank, the air stagnant and thick, especially on a hot day like this.
Finally, eventually, the flies proved too much for even Runework's incredible self-restraint, and he exploded into a series of enormous bucks, ignoring the whips and shattering his chains into a million tiny pieces. It was nearly twenty minutes before the powerfully built little stallion had bucked himself out. He had managed to give himself a nasty cut right on his stifle, and the flies buzzed around that with renewed enthusiasm, but now Rune was just too tired to bother.
He stood, stock still and in a daze, now not even flicking his tail to rid himself of flies. His head was down, level with his knees. He had gone from proud, strong and quietly defiant, to dejected, exhausted and smarting from his cut and several new whip-scars.
To any outsider, it would appear that his behaviour was the cause of his being here. In reality, his being here was the cause of his behaviour.
From somewhere in the deepest part of his depleted energy reserves, he found the strength to return to his proud but absent demeanour, and flicked his tail with renewed vigor and annoyance. No flies would get anywhere near his cut again - not on his watch.
Runework stomped hard with a foreleg and received another whipping for his troubles. It was better than his previous master, but not by much. He could only hope his next master was better still, but it was not likely.
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Words: 665
Thoughts: Bleh
Muse: Awful, but I'm bored, and I need to post with Rune, so meh
My mood: Bored, a bit lonely, missing my bf
Rune's mood: Much the same, except that instead of missing someone he's annoyed, stiff, and tired.
Runework was not so much a downtrodden horse as having simply given up on caring what happened to him. He was not fast enough to escape, though certainly if his strength came into play he might have gotten away, had he tried. It hadn't occurred to him that though he was not fast, his strength may be his saving grace. It made him worth something, good for heavy lifting. He would also have been a good fighter, had he been that way inclined, but the sabino stallion was very much of the opinion (not that he ever said anything) that violence was never the answer.
His intelligence also may have made him worth more, depending on the master, had he been the type to show it, but Runework was a humble horse, and so hid any talent that may make him seem better than another. As far as many were concerned, Rune was just another slave, albeit an enormous one for his height.
Even in less-than-ideal condition, Rune was quite a heavily built horse. He was certainly not an agile stallion, lacking in speed and manoeuvrability. But his strength was nearly unparalleled. He had never met a horse that could outdo him in a show of sheer brute strength.
Letting out his breath in a deep sigh, the piebald Gypsy stallion shifted his weight from one heavily feathered hind leg to the other. It was a few days ago now that he'd arrived here once again, and he hadn't been allowed to move much in that time. Rune looked askance at the slaver who was selling him, after permission to move more, but was told no, and figured he could deal with that for just a little longer.
The flies were d*mn near unbearable, buzzing around his face and biting his flanks and legs, but Runework ignored them, occasionally flicking his long, thick black tail in an effort to shift them. The problem with Horse Head Field was that the air didn't move, so it was very heavy on sickness, decay, and flies. And it stank, the air stagnant and thick, especially on a hot day like this.
Finally, eventually, the flies proved too much for even Runework's incredible self-restraint, and he exploded into a series of enormous bucks, ignoring the whips and shattering his chains into a million tiny pieces. It was nearly twenty minutes before the powerfully built little stallion had bucked himself out. He had managed to give himself a nasty cut right on his stifle, and the flies buzzed around that with renewed enthusiasm, but now Rune was just too tired to bother.
He stood, stock still and in a daze, now not even flicking his tail to rid himself of flies. His head was down, level with his knees. He had gone from proud, strong and quietly defiant, to dejected, exhausted and smarting from his cut and several new whip-scars.
To any outsider, it would appear that his behaviour was the cause of his being here. In reality, his being here was the cause of his behaviour.
From somewhere in the deepest part of his depleted energy reserves, he found the strength to return to his proud but absent demeanour, and flicked his tail with renewed vigor and annoyance. No flies would get anywhere near his cut again - not on his watch.
Runework stomped hard with a foreleg and received another whipping for his troubles. It was better than his previous master, but not by much. He could only hope his next master was better still, but it was not likely.
------------
Words: 665
Thoughts: Bleh
Muse: Awful, but I'm bored, and I need to post with Rune, so meh
My mood: Bored, a bit lonely, missing my bf
Rune's mood: Much the same, except that instead of missing someone he's annoyed, stiff, and tired.
