Thread: A Horse for Pestilence (Lord DreamCrusher/Iridel)

Pestilence considered the request for a moment, debating the idea before finally agreeing with some manner of reluctance. In truth she would need to learn how to walk in both ways and even standing would prove difficult with the way that her hooved boots forced her feet, might as well get that awkwardness out of the way now. Hmmm, good horses use all fours to walk and only stand on two for trotting or galloping. You've been good though White, so you may stand for now. She reveled in the gentle breeze and the warmth of the sunlight upon her. Everything was pristine and pure, just waiting for her corrupting touch to turn it rancid and decaying. She truly had the best job of all the riders since she got to witness it all from the very start, truly Death was to be pitied in that she only got to see the very end but the woman had never complained. Of course it was a strange thing that each rider fed upon and was sustained by their domains. Pestilence needed to spread disease and filth for the more who were afflicted the more she was satisfied. Since now the lands were far from devastated Pestilence and her horse would be subjected to the base needs of food, drink, and waste. White had been twisted up inside, changed to be able to subsist on grass and plants just like a true horse, though that wouldn't quite fix the taste. Pestilence herself believed she was deserving of the finest things she could find, first a little wine from Italy to get things started before she introduced a plague to the fruit in the area. The rider led Morgan towards the home standing atop the crest of the nearest hill, her hips swaying from side to side in a sensual fashion as she kept to a pace that her horse could match. Eventually they would make their way to the building in question as the view from the hill would stretch on for miles in all directions. There wasn't a sign of true civilization to be found on the horizon except for the small houses that loosely sprinkled the rolling hills and it truly was a wondrous sight. Take a good look White, these lands are destined to die. They'll never look the same as they do now girl, mmm the anticipation is palpable. The rider reached a hand out towards the door of the home, the familiar tendrils once again forming from her hand and weaving their way into the lock before it clicked open as she turned the knob. It didn't appear that anyone was currently home and no car sat parked nearby either, likely away on a day trip though it didn't matter to Pestilence even if they were home. The rooms were fairly open and flowing, quaint furniture giving the true feeling of a country home that was unconcerned with fine luxuries. White would only see the interior from the doorway though as Pestilence tied off the reins to a long since unused hitching post just outside. Her voice was teasing as the rider walked inside before quickly disappearing into the basement. Stay here White, I'll be right back. Pestilence half expected Morgan to try and flee, though without the use of her hands untying the reins would prove difficult to do. If she did somehow manage to get free than it would only speak to her intelligence or resolve, though the rider knew that there was no hope of her getting away once her rot had taken hold within her flesh. This was all part of the fun though, horses needed to be educated through experiences as they tended not to listen to words alone.