-- preoccupied with sexing earthworms

[Ettlyne ///]

earthworms.

the soil snakes slithered up onto the surface of the forest floor, fondling eachother in twisted turns of aphrodisia, souls offered towards the heavens who wept down onto them in splendid bliss. rain came. gently. slickened creatures made the ground swell with movement, motions echoing some sinking sand pit. rotting leaves of years before slowly rolled with the mass breeding of the worms. the heavy scent of sex was in the air. most were mere clones of themselves, others, different species perhaps, embraced one another and let dna be exchanged. what a beautiful sight.

and Ettlyne watched it with the greatest of interest. ... what are they doing? dancing? sight of foxen indigo hovered above the forms of free loving worms. she’d seen dancing before somewhere. the tribal ritual of the sun and moon interchanging places. yes, but this was new. the mare had already been standing there an hour. argent fell, dappled over with that of cobalt stars, hung stained by the carelessness of her coming. ebonite cobras tangled beyond repair rippled as cobral was arched, an auditorial warning coming from somewhere behind her. a snarl crept not one hundred yards from the oak tree. she’d turned her head, looking warily out into the shadowy abyss, wondering what kind of an earthworm could have made such a massive noise....

some ancient urge for self preservation told her to move on. and so she did. deeper into the wood. flints were placed gingerly, her balance seemingly broken today, as she slipped about over the uneven landscape. mushrooms bloomed temptingly at the base of some knotted tree, brilliant white and orange beckoning her to taste. muzzle was delicately placed over the pads of the fungus, pulling them loose, puffs of spores released as she bit down. maggots cried out from the bark as she stole away their shelter.

and then, in one too many careless a step, she fell.

the ground caved in, giving way to some secret swamp, pocketed away in the wood to capture an unsuspecting rodent. or perhaps a horse who had been too preoccupied with sexing earthworms to notice the changing of the terrain. muscles pulled, a splashing of muddied afra water and filth riddling her hide. Ettlyne, already caught chest deep in the suctioned trap, struggled in vain. a small cry was offered from her jaws, but her throat was unused and it sounded pitiful. knees broke against the layers of forest bog. her breathing became a fustian tool of the marsh. suffocating her.

several moments passed before she finally stood still, silently gasping for breath, sinking at a much steadier pace now. how to get out? equine looked about, wishing the worms were of some use. her wet prison bubbled up around her.

[» leviathan. ]]]

A duality of incoherent blinders perused over the eminent prescence of a dame. Mottled and pointed, quirky and unorthodox. Cute face, Slim waste -- Is she watching the worms do it?! Flints immidiately shifted awkwardly, raguarding the muculent invertebrets getting it on beneath his dishes. Fustian cogitations typhooned around the old boy's noggin, sizing up the mare to the others, himself. Compare and contrast, catalogue, save and repeat. Ancient impulses logged her into the database for retreival, perhaps at a later date. Teardrops flared, spoors deluged into the bastards system as oxygen vortexed into his pleuras. Effluxes of hormones quaked throughout him, chassis kicked up slightly, entwining the helpless fauna. Sickening cackles and splintereings barraged through the marshland, sending the ess afleet. Smart girl, for there are things in the woods to fear.

The dappled vixen had long since evaded Leviathan's line of sight as he loomed, frame creaking, from the thicket. Sunken pools eclipsed all other features, thestral in appearance, though rugged and adaptable like the rogue he was; the goliath slinked sans harmonics, sullen and skeletal. A strutting sack of bones. Alto chords supressed, sattelites radioed the base, the ditzy little thing was blundering and tottering all over herself. Twittering reservedly, tantilizing remarks hushed under his breath. Surely they were flying under her radar, had she even known a predator was following closely in her wake. Yes, as the lion roamed the plains, terrorizing and claiming all defiants, Leviathan would take her all the same. Oh how he'd imagine her, twirling and dancing under his every whim. How cute the little ballerina would be! Congealing his fancies and stowing them once more, he recollected, shook hands with the atmosphere and viwed her from afar.

The pretty fool, awkward in stance and step, gawkily swaying between all obstructions the loam had to peg at her. Drawn out chortles echoed Leviathan's calling, laxly he waltzed, slinking like a serpant behind Ettlyne.

Rifting tectonics, cruel such as in their nature, gave way betwixt her mass. Descant laments poured from her mug, a shockwave of realization warped over, tendencies consumed the barron. Tramps spewed the grime he ambled over, setting a fleeting pace. Heaving dioxide from the lungs, Leviathan looked upon the grave -- and quite frankly, pitiful -- sight the mare had bound herself by. But, what could he do? Dueling with one of Earth's deathpits certainly would lack a gleeful ending.

Pariphs bored into her as he gazed on from above. "Quit struggling. It'll suck you under." Lexics were uttered harsly and with great haste. "If you relax, your weight will be distributed evenly, you'll rise to the surface." A pitifull sight, indeed.