..This Is The Open Door..

[[flames on my heart]]

The breeze was as weak as the jaded slaves that traveled along, their cracked irons paining the bearer and even more the ones that care for them. Golden femmes stained with rotten mud and dying herbage.. He did not care for any of this foolish acting They were all jaded and weak, such words meaning every last bit of truth within them. Inspiration ripped from, and leaked unto the
lush, almost dead flora under the carcasses of equines. The encompassment seemed to suck the Fantasy to kill right from the stag's brutal heart.. he did not once feel the sense of perceptive,peppyness. Grunting once more, his nares drained of all the air he had, andonce more took a breath of the misty air.. if felt like murky water,dangerous and each step would be the last, and the irons on your very feet would not have support and before you know it..death met you right in the globe.


Why does thee bother! He snarled as the sound of a snapping twig stung his auditors. The bronco lashed out with his rear pistion with the wish to attack what was tormenting him.
Without anymore question he knew those dark famoras would be
rough, not jaded like the slaves he saw.. but so much more acrimonious Picking up his strut for the first time since every arriving in the unknown surrondings... his pools slanted north, glaring at the empty clearing, the beaten logs slumped against the trunk of another.. for a slight moment the weary trees almost seemed to moan in despair, as if they had been chained away to an eternity of death and jaded afternoons.

The Open Door savagely tossed his crania into the fogged air,
his pools exposed to the light as he sniffed the scents he knew where close by, challenging brutes were no problem as often times they never inched close enough to smell his cursed scent..
stabbing fear into the Visionaries of the bachelors.. with pinned
auditives, the lads never frightened The Open Door. How tragic, skittish brutes left the domain all 'lone, 'tis not something
I would waste thought on.. I must strive forward. His strides were even, and a horrifying sight to the victim he was charging at, pure ghost qualities about him made it close to impossible to catch up to, galloping across dead plains and lively forests.. never close to sun patches were the light bakes the carcass of darks. His lope, even and surely not elegant swiftly slowed to an alert trot, his daggers hitting the ground with ever step he took, he knew not to waste his time with a canter, the maidens in the empire would surely not give into his demands with a simple song of lyrics. That is not how the famora's reacted to being ruled over!

His journey, took him to the lazy knolls of the east, vast miles of
bright, and to wards the western horizon, darkest as the strand of darkened green in the tree slanted over the creek. The
brute inched his bodice next to it, noting the scents laid all over the soil, surely beaten to it. Something.. has laid it's carcass here Personally, he cared none for young vixens, nor the old ones. The brutes could lay their scent wherever he could travel, but to take this monster off guard would take more than that.
His pupils scanning the empire with ever growing suspicion. A slight feel of enmity washed over him, as he knew he had to scream to the famoras.. challenging them if they would be able to resit his force

His frame raised into the air with the force of a hammer driving through the rock, raven inked daggers slashing the atmosphere with enmity, and irked emotion as he thrashed about in a display of not arrogance, nor immaturity, but of a stallion worthy of a
tainted souled femmes.. and he would show it to those whom
looked down upon him.. All Vixens.. Come if you ever so dare! His frame crashed down as his daggers dented the earth with the savage thud. The pools of The Open Door, remained alert, all senses sharp and keen as they would be always.. he didn't pay any care to any thing else he sensed. Wait.. this should interesting

Dare Thee? To Come And Show Your Tiara?

The moons had passed, the phases had changed and each full moon had it's evil glare right on it's mug, as it smirked on The Open Door.. for his often " I hate everything" attitude, is what made him ever so famous. Or, did fame have the reason as it promised? To lift thee from the dark pits of his pure insanity... or maybe even to lie, and not keep the promise of an optimistic future. Whatever, the brute shifted his weight and snorted in disgust at the light feel to the empire. The soil shifted, as a slight earthquake wave had pushed right under the savage, irked beast. Pourquoi perdez mon temps important ici ?
he spat, few knew the language he spoke when his boredom, or temper reach it's all time peak, was French. The smell of the rotting hides of jaded colts, and the skittish femoras that had scattered their bones about had flooded this velvet nares and by now, his eyes were filled with the hatred as they usually were.

Blood, had been scented here, he knew someone was lingering about.. with the fear ripping their dial and tearing to the tip of their bleak plumage.

The Open Door stood there in all his demonic being
Feeling the blood in the atmosphere as his mind grew weary
Not showing the simple sign of the jaded flesh
That others had on them, he thrashed threw the sky with no sign of emotion bleeding from his carcass

He pondered, what blood of femora was most likely to reveal her
light, as much as he hated the lights, would show their delicate
and unharmed dial. They should, feel the pain he had and have bleed the reality as he. His irons grew vexed as he stood, finally screeching like a owl, blurting his last calls

Femoras, stupid and unworthy, lively and pure if your sanity can take the murder you shall endure, show your crania.. do not bow as spit at the ones whom think I shall spare them.

[Lorrinda Pine<3]

A peircing black mare with a long silky black mane and tail was galloping into the terra.Where she knew only darks live.Cause of the stupid ugly lights.She then stoped at a hill as she was pure mustang blood.She then pinned her ears to her skull and then showed her teeth.She saw the brute but made no move toward him.She was a neutral mare leaning toward the side of Darkness.She then trotted down the hill.She then saw a light stallion coming toward her.She squeeled and then bucked at the stallion showing him that she was a neutral.And then nipped the stallion angerly.She then shook her dish and then saw the light brute gallop away.She looked toward the dark brute and then flicked her tail and then did a dark pericing scream.

[[flames on my heart]]

The murky atmosphere was tinted with the feeling of a dark brute, who had no feeling or desired the fantasy of love. Montrez-vous La Jument! Femme, Show Yourself I care little for the pampered, jaded and weary brats His lips curled as he spat his lyrics like a vicious, cruel dictator as he snarled upon the land he had powered. The Open Door had closed his heart years ago, the pain that had been caused by the opening of his long lost black heart had pained him, greater than his tinted life itself. He leaned upwards on his haunches, his powerful thrashing was like the bloody knife of a serial killer, one victim falling after another.. the line never, ever ceases. He felt the cool blast of air become more stronger as his pistons landed, the dark irons causing more damage to the brown soil then had been there before. The earthquakes, had been present but no one could flee from them, at least they killed swift and not like The Open Door.... he desired those to be murdered by a slow.. and painful meaning. His harks flickered, his mug lined with the smirk that been planted there for years now, each passing of the moon meant a whole new reason to smirk.

He turned his bodice, as it leaned towards the south his mind centered on the smell he had felt flow from his nares to his senses. His inked carcass, was as black as the starless blackness of the sky, midnight couldn't have created a darker hint, and hue. His sleek pendulum flowed as he swished it at the flies lurking for his dark, demonic blood. He had the crania, of the devil himself as if the devil, his knife in hand had carved it from the black darkness he had gathered, and created The Open Door. No one could really deny, no one knew the real Open Door.. no one ever, ever would.





Montrez-vous La Jument! His demonic lyrics repeated