.{Heartbeats and Hoofbeats} [OPEN!]

[guardiane]

-=PaPeRcUt=-

<< Nomad >>

Why does it feel like night today?
Something in here's not right today.
Why am I so uptight today?
Paranoia's all I got left
I don't know what stressed me first
Or how the pressure was fed
But I know just what it feels like

{A} gentle breeze caressed the emerald-green grass that blanketed the fertile land that was rolled out like some giant masterpiece painted on the canvas of nature. Tiny blades of grass, stretching heavenwards from the soil like miniscule pikes, waved gently to and fro in the benign wind that whispered its secrets through the landscape. A pair of eyes, almost as brown as the hazel bark that coated the great trees that were patterned along the grassland, surveyed the environment, a sense of emotional evanescence behind its dark pupils. An ebony banner waved proudly in the light gale, and small splinters of sunlight glinted off the shining pelt of the great stallion. He was no longer a colt; he was now a man - most of the traces of his colthood had dissolved into the essence of time. Nomad knew he had a future ahead of him, and that each choice, each decision was pursued by a consequence that would shape his destiny. But the question was, which were the right choices to make?

To have a voice in the back of my head
It's like a face that I hold inside
A face that awakes when I close my eyes
A face watches every time I lie
A face that laughs every time I fall
(And watches everything)
So I know that when it's time to sink or swim
That the face inside is hearing me
Right underneath my skin

It's like I'm paranoid lookin' over my back
It's like a whirlwind inside of my head
It's like I can't stop what I'm hearing within
It's like the face inside is right beneath my skin

{T}his was his homeland; the vast terrain that all belonged to the Cimarron herd - this is where he was born, and raised. He was part of this family, and that meant he had a dedication to live up to. Blinking his eyes again, Nomad let a small sigh escape his nostrils, and began walking across the grassland, his hooves leaving shallow indentations in the blanket of grass. He wondered if he would meet any of the others that belonged to his herd. Nomad's mind began to wander, his thoughts carrying him into a world of his own as he walked, his toned oak-brown frame carrying him across the land. To be honest, he wanted to talk to someone - an outlet to this loneliness.

I know I've got a face in me
Points out all my mistakes to me
You've got a face on the inside too and
Your paranoia's probably worse
I don't know what set me off first but I know what I can't stand

It's like I'm paranoid lookin' over my back
It's like a whirlwind inside of my head
It's like I can't stop what I'm hearing within
It's like the face inside is right beneath my skin

[/size]

{{ooc ;; Wow, muse explosion! xD But, seriously, it was mainly thanks to the song Papercut by Linkin Park, which is one I suggest listening to - it's awesome, especially the parts near the end!}

[/center]

[[R].ebel]

Splashes of brown painted on a canvas of white spotted the rolling plains of the Cimarron. A light summer breeze carried over the land, swaying the plains' tall grasses gently to its side, sweeping waves of gold and green across the land. These kinds of summer days were ones old eyes had seen many a time before and yet each time felt like the first time he'd ever felt the summer as a foal. Such where the memories of an old paint.

Chicko was a familiar face of the Cimarron: an old brown and white paint with a kind heart and kind eyes. He walked slow across the pains, not only to take in the feel of the grass caressing his legs softly, but because of his aged bones, which where proving to him that he was not as young as he used to be. If one ever looked closely enough, they may notice the small limp in his foreleg, an injury sustained from protecting a young colt the season before from that dastardly black stallion known as Demon. The old paint, eyes weary from the years he had seen, focused on the ground ahead and failed to see the other he was approaching, who, had Chicko had noticed, was on much the same kind of walk across the plains as he.

//notes::: color = #3AB17F

[guardiane]

{E}ven from his early colthood, Nomad had never really truly got to know any of his fellow herd members. On many occasions, his actions had suited his name; it was in his blood to travel and roam freely, and this had often resulted in him distancing himself from others to go on his own; make his own path. In the end, he wasn't really sure if that was the right or the wrong thing to do. But the question was, what was the difference between right and wrong? With every day that passed, it was beginning to get harder and harder to answer it. However, he had made a few acquaintances in the herd, although he had never really taken the time to fully know them. Selfish? No. It was something more complicated than that. From birth, he had been raised by a single parent, and then abandoned. While this may have toughened him up, it couldn't help but hint him into questioning his own purpose her - he wanted to find it. Or was finding one's own purpose one's purpose?

I can't add up to what you can but
Everybody has a face that they hold inside
A face that awakes when I close my eyes
A face watches every time I lie
A face that laughs every time I fall
(And watches everything)
So you know that when it's time to sink or swim
That the face inside is watching you too
Right inside your skin

{C}raning his broad neck slightly, his gaze fell upon a form that was both so distant to him yet so familiar; Chicko. Nomad's path had, on a few times, crossed with the elder's, and he was no stranger to him. Or was he? Nomad let out a small nicker of greeting and walked up to the old stallion, dipping his head slightly in respect.
"Good day, Chicko. It's not often I see you," he smiled, and then added in a tone that hinted some playfulness, "remember me? That colt which was always exploring the grasslands?"
Strangely, half of him wished that everyone had forgotten Nomad's past, including him, but the other half wanted his history to be known. Nomad also couldn't help noticing a small limp in Chicko's great strides, but that would have to be questioned later.

[/blockquote]

[[R].ebel]

Good day, Chicko. It's not often I see you, remember me? That colt which was always exploring the grasslands?

The old paint stopped short, a bit surprised to hear the voice. Adjusting his eyes to the new face, the paint smiled, nodding his head in greeting, squinting a bit to try to recall who this was, and then he remembered.

"Ah, Nomad, right? Forgive me if I'm wrong, my mind seems to lose the names I've collected over the years."

[guardiane]

{H}ow long had it been since Nomad had seen Chicko, again? His mind suggested months, even years, but, to be honest, it was hard to tell. The soul before him felt so familiar, yet also bore a strong aura of strangeness that made Nomad question ever even seeing him. Yet, deep down, he knew that he had met this elder before, and a small smile spread across his maw. Even though he had never really been around much, Nomad knew that there still were faces which he had shared many an experience with. Sadly, though, some of those had begun to drown in the mist of forgetfulness, and Nomad wondered where they were. Oh well - no was not the time to dwell on the past. Nomad's auds pricked up slightly as Chicko responded, his ebony eyes flashing in the sunlight.


"Ah, Nomad, right? Forgive me if I'm wrong, my mind seems to lose the names I've collected over the years."

{T}he smile on Nomad's maw widened into a warm grin, and he nodded slightly. So Chicko had remembered him, something that surprised the stud slightly - he had never got to know Chicko, and, from all the years the old stallion had been around, he was amazed that he was of the amount of significance required for someone to remember his face. Not that this really dragged down his morale. Nomad had learnt, over the years, to believe in himself and his capabilities - a feat which assured himself of his strengths and weaknesses.

"So you remember me," Nomad's tone carried not disrespect (on the contrary - he had much respect for elders) but rather a level of happiness, "it's good to see you again, Chicko. Months away from my birthland have made me forget just how beautiful it really is..." Nomad trailed off slightly, letting a glance sweep over the lands around him. However, his focus returned to Chicko, and then he noticed his limp. His eyebrows furrowing slightly in concern, he asked, "excuse me for asking, Chicko, but are you limping? What happened?"

[[R].ebel]

So you remember me. It's good to see you again, Chicko. Months away from my birthland have made me forget just how beautiful it really is...

Chicko smiled. So, his mind wasn't getting as old as he thought, the old paint could still remember a few of his fellow herd members. The ole paint looked around at the mention of the beauty of the Cimarron; truely it was a beauty. A beauty unmatched in the eyes of the paint. Many years had allowed him to see many places but none could compare to his homeland. Ears pricked to the stallion, Nomad, as he spoke again, and the elder looked to him.

Excuse me for asking, Chicko, but are you limping? What happened?

Chicko sighed silently to himself. He knew what had happened and he could remember the short lived battle like it had only happened yesterday. Chicko had only come in at the end of the battle, as he put the odds against the black stallion, forcing him to leave. After a moment of thought, the old paint replied.

"I injured my shoulder protecting a young colt from a rogue stallion. It happened over the Spring sometime. Esperanza, however, was the one who did most of the fighting... well, her and the colt. I'll be fine by the end of the summer however."

Chicko assured with a light smile and nod of his head... but his eyes were clouded with thought of the black stallion. Chicko was able to recall his name quite easily: Demon. It was a name well deserved for that stallion.

[guardiane]

{P}erhaps the ages he had been away from his birthland had taken a slight mould over his thinking; it seemed so...different than it had usually been when he was much younger, even though the only memories of this place were blurred by the visage of early youth. From what he could recall, though, the place seemed so much more...hostile? No, that wasn't the correct term. Intimidating. Yes, that was the right word. The Cimarron herdlands seemed so much more intimidating than it had seemed to be when he was younger...Or was it? Confusing himself, Nomad shrugged the thoughts off, returning to the scenario at hand.
After he had asked the question, his focus remained on Chicko, a mixture of curiosity and sympathy in his unwavering gaze.

"I injured my shoulder protecting a young colt from a rogue stallion. It happened over the Spring sometime. Esperanza, however, was the one who did most of the fighting... well, her and the colt. I'll be fine by the end of the summer however."

{A} rogue stallion? A colt? Ezperanza? Raising an inquisitive eyebrow, Nomad could sense that Chicko was leaving out the entirety over what had really happened, but he figured that, right now, it was no use asking it - that would only provoke Chicko. No, he would have to ask at a later time. But, still, it was slightly unnerving that rogues, especially hostile ones, were amid the population of the Cimarron. That could only mean problems. Problems Nomad knew nothing about. So, that was how Chicko had wounded his shoulder - in the defense of an innocent colt from an aggressive stallion. Made sense.

"I'm sad to hear that. However, if I may ask, what was the stallion's name? Is he still around the herd lands?" he paused for a bit, then, in a tone slightly darker, added, "...does Spirit know of this?"

{S}peaking of Spirit, where was the leader stallion? Nomad had not seen him since he had left, and it intrigued him as to how he had seen no sign or presence of the great stallion. Perhaps things had changed...

[/color][/blockquote]

[[R].ebel]

I'm sad to hear that. However, if I may ask, what was the stallion's name? Is he still around the herd lands? ...does Spirit know of this?

Chicko knew that stallion's name all too well... The black stallion, Demon. A rogue of the lands, but leader of a small band. Other than that, Chicko knew nothing else. But that was enough to know this stallion meant bad news.

"His name is Demon. He is the leader of the Tomahawk band, a band or rogues... So far as I know, he hasn't been around since spring, but something tells me that he'll be back... As for Spirit... no one knows where he is. He isn't in the homelands..."

[guardiane]

{E}ven before the aged elder spoke the words, Nomad already expected something dark or sinister - it was as if an aura of obscurity was eminating from the sudden change of mood around the two. To be honest, he felt no real fear of this stallion of which these dismal deeds belonged to, but, still, he couldn't help but feel a slight chill as he looked into the eyes of Chicko and saw the forlorn experience he had endured that day when they had the encounter.

"His name is Demon. He is the leader of the Tomahawk band, a band or rogues... So far as I know, he hasn't been around since spring, but something tells me that he'll be back... "

{D}emon? Ironic as it was, but Nomad had to agree with what Chicko said; after considering what this "Demon" had done, it was quite a fitting name, and a few questions passed around his mind. Was this stallion really as dangerous as he sounded? If so, then where was he now?

"...As for Spirit... no one knows where he is. He isn't in the homelands..."

{T}hat, too, came as a surprise to Nomad. The leader of the Cimarron herd, mysteriously vanishing? Something didn't sound right - so perhaps things had changed since Nomad had taken his last close observation of this land. And, to be honest, it had only changed for the worse. Where was Spirit? Is he okay? After a few seconds of silent thinking, Nomad, exchanging glances between Chicko and their lush surroundings, spoke.

"Spirit? He's gone? This can't be good...Rogues wandering idly around this land...Our leader gone..." Nomad trailed off, his eyes wandering around them, a shining gleam of contemplation behind his eyes. "Where's the rest of the herd? Are they alright?”

[[R].ebel]

Where's the rest of the herd? Are they alright

Chicko actually chuckled lightly at the stallion's concern, not at all worried about the Cimarron herd. He knew who was among it and how devoted they were to thier homeland. Even without Spirit as leader, the Cimarron was a strong herd.

"Everyone's fine, Nomad. We're just missing our leader, that's all. I'm sure Spirit's fine where ever he is, but in the mean time we mustn't worry the others with the knowledge... Although I'm sure by now most have figured he and his mate are missing. Esperanza is more or less leading for now, and I know she is more than capable to do so."

Looking across the plains, Chicko absent mindedly swished his tail, soft eyes studying the terrain. He felt at ease and safe in the knowledge of the Cimarron herd's abilities, though he wasn't about to get cocky... Chicko knew all too well about the dangers of rogues and worse, the Darksun...

"The Cimarron is strong... I have faith the herd will be fine."

[guardiane]

{A} small wave of reassurance swept over Nomad as he heard Chicko's chuckle - for some reason, it relieved him of some of his concern. It was the kind of friendly, reassuring chuckle one could hear from his grandfather. A small smile curved upon Nomad's maw, and a faint sparkle of that same youthful vigor flashed in his shining ebony eyes as he listened to Chicko, nodding slightly in acknowledgement. Letting a glance sweep over the land around him, the nostalgia seemed to suddenly disappear, and reality set in. His face turned grim as he considered his future. Not only his. That of the Cimarron's. And, for that matter, everyone here in the West. Just what would the coming days, weeks, months even years hold? He guessed only time was able to uncover those secrets.

"The Cimarron is strong... I have faith the herd will be fine."

{N}omad turned his head to face Chicko, and he nodded.
"I understand. Yet..." Nomad trailed off, vacancy returning to his voice. That same silence which had served as a cover to his emotions for so long. Would truth fall upon Chicko's words? Nomad dismissed the question - Chicko wasn't any normal elder. Even though he did not fully know the older stallion, Nomad knew just how wise and trustworthy Chicko was. Another, slight, smile came upon Nomad's face.

"I have to go, Chicko. It was good meeting you again, even more so talking with you. Farewell for now, friend."

{A}fter dipping his head in a respectful gesture, Nomad turned and cantered off, his muscular figure slowly dimming into a distant blur across the grasslands.

{{OoC; Chicko's chuckle...small smile, lol xD. I'm terribly sorry for ending the thread so early, but I was expecting this thread to be moved after the period of inactivity we had, and I made plans for another thread. =(. Once again, my apologies. If you want, though, I could carry on with you in this thread =)}}

[[R].ebel]

The old paint nodded his head in farwell as the stallion took off. Thunder rumbled in the distance as a slight drizzle of rain began. Chicko could feel something amiss in his bones; something was coming. A storm unlike any other. How Chicko wished he was wrong... Snorting, the elder kicked into a slow lope towards the shelter of the trees.

ooc// it's fine. what I get for being inactive. x.x Anway, it's best I lose an rp thread so I can spare the muse...