A gory sunset awaited the King as he strode from the confines of his royal chamber. Crisp air filled cramped lungs, and he breathed deeply and heavily, sucking in the taste and scent of his kingdom. A rogue wind tousled dark raven locks, spilling them forward over eyes of acid peagreen and deep venomous olive.
A moon-lit steed awaited him, her pelt dyed bloody by the rays of a murdered sun. The monarch eyed his beast a moment, his thin black lips lifting in lopsided pleasure at the beauty of her dappled silver pelt, her pretty dished head. He was an addict to visual appeal, a slave for the desires of the eyes to gaze upon wondrous and pretty things - Perhaps, his only weakness.
He mounted fluidly, a movement well-practised. The mare tossed her silken locks, but beneath his stern hand she calmed, and burst eagerly into a gallop at his command. The monarch's dark coat, a thick brown bear-pelt, flapped and rustled like dark wings as it bannered in the wind.
They rode unruly, wild and unconstrained, a dark master and a ray of moonlight stolen from the breast of the moon herself. He lorded over the unruly terrain, the wickedness of a land made rough by ocean and mountain alike. The Thistle King and his people suited this terrain - They were as gnarled and twisted as the roots of its trees, as powerful as its shores and as sharp as its thorns.
It was a scent, brought to him by the wayward and teasing zephyr, that made the dark and brooding man pull the horse up from its reckless flight. Luna danced and snorted beneath him, unsure why he had commanded such an immediate halt. The man's dark nose twisted, and his black lips peeled back slightly to show a glimmer of yellowed fangs. Intruder? Guiding the mare with the pressure of his thighs, he followed the wind, and came upon a woman sunk by the base of an old pine.
She surely would have heard his approach, for light as she was, the horse's silver hooves crunched the winter frost with each step. Steam furled from its nostrils, matching the ghostly hue of the smoke that curled from the cigarette in the stranger's fingers. Her features were concealed as she sat, and though he desired a better view of her, Sirius did not dismount. His cloak settled heavily over his shoulders and flowed over the haunches of the mare, rustling like feathers furling against one another. "What have we here?" Came the silky voice, a poisonous charm that oozed with deadly intend from between yellowed daggers. He offered no smile - Merely a hard, unreadable gaze that took in the woman and her feline companion coldly.
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