Mystic Falls 2: A New World - a boy brushed red;;

The horizon glowed as the light began to fade, the sun pouring its last ray's over the terrain. Grass casted long forlorn shadows as dark gray clouds hung draggingly and menacingly low in a complete contrast to the brilliantly pink sky. Every sign of life had vanished from the field it seemed, being late in the afternoon and growing cold all equines would have retreated for the day. Back to their homes, families or patheticly new acquainted lovers who did not know a thing about each other but shared the same idea that with love everything would be perfect.

This seemed to show a line between the good, and the evil. Being good though was no fun. Utterly boring and completely pathetic. And anyway, who would want to be good, when you can be deliciously evil? The thought was puzzling.

Silent daggers treaded this earth alone, piercing hoof sunk into the soft dirt and spraying loose soil about, before dragging forth to take the next step, and the next necessary breath. Thrice a forleg stained an ivory, four pistons of a ebony shade. The equine's bodice was a silky copper, and as as she trod her muscles rippled menacingly beneath her glossy pelt. Midnight tresses billowed out and cascaded flawlessly.

Her face revealed the most though. With a arched serpentine, dished face, broad length, and hazel orbs that seemed to continue endlessly the vixen was truly lovely. But her nature was quite different. She would never stoop as low as the Lights do. No, she was dark. The confident, taunting stride she had gave that part of her away. The fae's dial had dropped low as she let her flared nares take in the scent of life. With a startled realization she caught the scent of a equine, who was roaming still as well.

With a sense of curiosity, the fae changed direction and headed towards where the equine was most likely to be. The horse was surly upwind of her. She walked nonchalantly, not caring enough to quicken her pace. She had all the time in the world to get there. ...Okay, that's a lie, but she certainly was not going to waste her energy for some equine that was most likely some pathetic light.

As she lengthened her pace she gained upon a series of hills, and figured that she might get a better view if she climbed up. Right before she was about to continue though, the equine let out a call, and was surprisingly close. On top of the hill she had been about to climb in fact. With a toss of her mane she climbed the hill, and turned to see the equine.

He was a Spanish mustang by the looks of it, and by the way he stood, it was pretty clear that he wasn't light. against her normally critical nature, her immediate thought afterward was that he wasn't unfortunate in appearance, in fact he was definitely fortunate, but she certainly wouldn't give that thought away by her expression, and she attempted to remain expressionless. Despite herself the fae smirked in greeting, and raised her eyebrows in expectation of words. The smirk was open, but had a sense of some unidentifiable emotion that defined her as a dark, who was certainly capable of survival. Anyway, If he didn't speak, she supposed she could begin, but frankly, that tactic didn't really appeal to her.