Southern Comfort
#1
backdated to Nov 22nd Takes place before Flower Girl - sometime in the morning
3+

The giant of a boy was thoroughly bored. After the excitement of the chase the day before everything he tried to do today just seemed extremely boring to him. He hadn't felt like going hunting today despite the thrill he had gotten yesterday but really he just struggled to find something interesting to do. Eventually boredom drove him to a far part of the pack territory where people seldom went with his wooden flute. He was still extremely reluctant to have anybody know that he played the flute even though he had been practicing every day for almost half a year. He was fairly good at it if he did say so himself, self taught as he was.

He liked to be near the ocean when he played, the melody of the flute and the crashing of the waves seemed to work together and he had managed to create a few good sounding tunes that used the roar of the ocean as a backing sound. He didn't begin playing immediately however instead he just listened to the sound of the waves with his eyes closed, breathing in the salty tang of the ocean. After a while he opened his eyes, able to hear the song clearly in his mind now and how the notes would meld together and the whole of its sound.

He brought the wooden instrument slowly to his lips, taking a breath and blew softly. The first note was long and wavering almost hanging, suspended in the air with a slight shiver. Then a second note came in as a deeper sound, followed by several short flutters. The song he wove was slow to unfold but when it did it was tuneful and coming straight from the souls, telling a story of the waves and their ever lasting washing against the shore.
#2
[html]

+ 3 this should be fun...sorry for the long ass post.


Duke needed to go for another run. After the day before, running so much and going after the cow elk with Lorenzo and Wayne…he was getting antsier than normal. Being able to work like he used to do, chasing and cutting cattle, working hard and getting the love from his rider for doing such a good job. Back home, in the heat and humidity that made Texas, they had worked hard for hours on end, not taking a break until all the chores were done and it was time for bed. After traveling and getting cozy in the cold north…working wasn’t as hard or fulfilling anymore. He was starting to really feel a desire to just go, go, go all the time now. Mares and other horses didn’t really appeal to him, just running, working, physical exertion was a thrill.

Dixie loved holding on, the feeling of flying that she got from clinging to the back of such a huge creature as he let himself go. There was no saddle this time, no reins or anything. She just used the muscles in her legs and gripped his mane in both fists. Her short body leaned down low, pressed almost flat to his back and neck as he ran full out. Sand flew into the air behind him as he ran, his smallish hooves digging into the beach and ripping it apart. Foam began to build around his mouth and on his neck and shoulders, flecks flying off with each beat.

The small stallion’s breathing became labored as he kept running; refusing to give up until his legs hurt and standing was hard without shaking. All his girl had to do was hold on and enjoy the ride…until he stumbled. Dixie sat back quickly and yipped at him lightly, tugging on his mane and squeezing her legs tightly. Whoooa, ease up, sweety. Time to slow down and relax. He whickered softly and slowed to a choppy trot, lifting his hooves in a high prance with each step. The slower pace meant that there was less noise and Dixie was finally able to hear over the horse and the ocean’s loud crashing. A soft melody tinkled through the air, a flute she knew, coming from somewhere close.

Duke pulled up and began walking slowly, looking around as if to search for the sound as well. He saw Lorenzo first and trotted closer, recognizing the boy from the hunt. A soft whinny was given to warn him of their approach, and Dixie turned to see her friend sitting there…with a flute. Who would have thought that the big monster of a young man liked music…and had talent? Slipping down off of Duke’s back, she walked over to Lorenzo and sank down onto the sand at his side, head tilted and ears perked up. That sounds lovely, Enzo…keep playing, please?


table by the Mentors!

<style>
.dixiedontcry p.ooc {text-indent:0px; font-style:italic; font-size:10px; }
p.dixiedontcry {text-indent:0px; text-align:center; font-size:10px; font-style:italic; width:500px; text-align:center; margin:0px auto;}
.dixiedontcry p {padding:5px 10px; margin:0px; text-indent:45px;}
.dixiedontcry b {color:#02ffff; letter-spacing:.5px; font-family:times new roman, times, serif; font-size:14px; }
.dixiedontcry {background-color:#00aeff; background-image:url(http://i.imgur.com/hG8C6.jpg); background-position:top center; background-repeat:no-repeat; outline:1px solid #ffffff; font-family: georgia, serif; font-size:12px; color:#015a84; letter-spacing:.-.5px; word-spacing:.3px; line-height:18px; width:500px; text-align:left; padding:300px 0px 10px 0px; margin:0px auto; }
</style>[/html]
#3
3+

He kept on playing and became deaf and blind to his surroundings, hearing and seeing nothing but the ocean of which he had grown to hold a great love for. The ocean seemed to like the song he played for it he liked to think because it roared more and the waves swelled, growing and shrinking, rising and falling with greater enthusiasm. Spray rose from its surface like so many disturbed birds and he gladly breathed in the hearty smell, in another life and time maybe Lorenzo would have become a sailor, forever roaming the oceans that he adored so much and maybe perhaps even in this one he would have eventually but fate was about to cut that path short before it even began, a destined meeting with his flower girl, Juliet. Of course Lorenzo was not to know this yet for the said meeting had not occurred but it would be very soon for him, hours at the most when Lorenzo in the end decides to go hunting later in the day for birds with a certain slingshot.

He had been playing for a long time it seemed before he began to come back to the here and now, his mind having been wandering many miles away. A horse's nicker had his hands and lips stilling, the breath dieing in his throat as he looked around for whoever it was that was nearby. A female voice with a southern twang came to his ears and from seemingly thin air the cowgirl appeared with her steed like a ghost in the night. She sat next to him and he coughed awkwardly,

"aheerr ah don't reelly play fer people. Uhm nahboody has herd meh play beefore." He shifted uncomfortably now, the music within had faded as his social inadequacies came to the fore.


Forum Jump: