Post by Brady on Feb 1, 2013 20:53:50 GMT -6
[bg=ffffff][atrb=width,500,true][atrb=border,0,true]  G E N E R A L L Y S P E A K I N G . . .
|
[/li][li] Markings: Evergreen paint splatters his body, concentrating on his face, with a white coronet on his hind right leg, deep purple highlights on his ear, rump, and front right knee, and black surrounding his eyes.
. . . Paint markings, you get it? Eh? Eh? [/i]
[/li][li] Eyes: While the dominant color is lime green, sky blue and deep purple are swirled in the depths to make a rather hypnotic gaze.
. . . Acid splashed with sunny skies and plums. Did I mention I'm, like, super poetic?
[/li][li] Rank: Citizen
. . . Only because Prince Charming isn't a rank
[/li][li] Magic Level: Azuran Mage, Celadonian Mage, Byzantine Apprentice
. . . My personal arsenal
[/li][li] Colony: Azuran, Byzantine, and Celadonian magic
. . . Azure grants me mental control, wrapping fingers in your mind, toying with your emotions and slipping into your life. Celadon gifts me secrecy, providing cover as my thoughts outreach, my eyes unseen as they view all. Byzantium saves my flesh from those who realize my schemes. [/i]
[/li][/ul]
[/size]
T O U C H U P S . . .
[/center]- Purchased Hybrid: Tri-Hybrid
- Colony Change: No
- Undead: No
- Free Item: Not Applicable
- Other:
- Paintbrush : Overall navy toe
- Colored Markings : Evergreen paint splashes
- Colored Markings : Cyan paint splashes
- Colored Markings : Deep purple hues
- Hair Styles : Mohawk
- Mutilation : Lion's tail
- Nail Polish : Purple hooves
- Glow in the Dark: Glowing green markings
- Highlights : Blue tones in mane
- Highlights : Green tones in mane
- Highlights : Purple tones in mane
- Highlights : Blue tones in tail
- Highlights : Green tones in tail
- Highlights : Purple tones in tail
- Apprentice > Mage : Celadon
- Apprentice > Mage : Azure
. . . I like to strut my stuff. I'm kind of like a peacock. Pee-caw, pee-caw
[/li][/ul]
[/size]
T R E S P A S S E R S W A R N E D . . .
[/center][/size]- Personality: S P E A K !
. . . You think you can sum up an entire creation with the inadequate use of language? How can syllables and letters sew up the fabric of a whole life and being? The soul is too infinite for explanations, too delicate for the rough handling of public viewing. You should keep your eyes to yourself, worry about you and your own, and leave me to me. But if this is what's forced upon me... allow me a brief synopsis that will hardly scratch the surface of the one you question. Ask away.
- G E N T L E M A N ?
. . . How kind of you to assume so. I suppose it might be true. I find that a gentle word and a quiet charm untie the strings locking so many traits within another horse, and what a fantastic opportunity to reveal the hidden! Some might claim my lack of ability to reproduce spurs my rather strong flair for flirtation, but why would I attempt what I cannot follow through with? Stop looking at me like that. Like an empty shell that can't do what I was designed to do. I'm not a failure, and even if you aren't saying it out loud, it's rude to make it so obvious. I would never do something so offensive. Wait, what? Oh, that... well, I don't spy on people that often, and is it really so offensive? Maybe it's their fault for making it too easy. Let's just move onto a different trait...
- P A R A N O I D ?
. . . Oh, come on, now you're jumping to conclusions. I'm not paranoid! I saw the judgment all over your face. If anything, you're paranoid. Why? Because... you're... lame.
- I N A R T I C U L A T E ?
. . . I had rather hoped you wouldn't notice. No, I'm not inarticulate. I'm rather eloquent, actually, especially when it comes to first introductions, or meeting a pretty face. I do love a pretty face. Ah, now I'm distracted. Anyway, what you call "inarticulate" is simply my... lovely quirk. So many like to boast of their knack at sarcasm, their well-honed comebacks and witty retorts. I'm afraid I don't wield that talent. It's not that I'm unintelligent, it's that my tongue gets so damned twisted and my brain gets all frozen in the moment, and then later I come up with a great reply... y'know, when they're already gone. I don't think it's all that rare, is it? Can't we just talk about something else? Like those pretty faces I mentioned.
- W H O R E ?
. . . Now, now, before we start name-calling, let's use our brains and the things we call memories to remember that I can't be a whore. If I could be, trust me, I would. I'd populate the lands with so many dang children, they'd change the name of the realm to Aliasia. What did you call me? A "wannabe whore"? You're being offensive again. No, don't try to stop me, I'm leaving! Just you wait! I'm gonna go! I am!
- L I A R ?
. . . Maybe just a bit. But keep it down, would you? I don't need every ear devouring that useful little secret. I'm not an honest person. Although I might seem perfect, it's a bit of an... alias of identity, ha-ha. Can't believe you called me inarticulate, I'm so articulate! Distracted again, you say? Right. So what I lie about... let's see. My name, for starters. I never give anyone my true name. I use only aliases. It's not exactly lying, though, is it? Because what I give them is my name! I give them an alias, and my name is Alias. Therefore, I'm giving them my name. They're to blame for not recognizing it. It's not so easy to explain, though, when two horses come across me at the same time, each knowing me by a different name. That's usually when I find the sky suddenly very interesting.
- S P Y ?
. . . This is my favorite pastime! Why dream of espionage when you can live it? I mean, I'm not reporting to anyone, or having any real purpose with it, or making use of my knowledge, but I am spying, and that's the important part. How do I do it? Why, with the use of my wonderful powers! Handy things to have, they are. See, Celadonian magic allows me to transform myself into something nondescript, like a rock or a tree. Then, I can overhear all the sneaky things horses have to whisper. And, of course, I can't resist using my other powers, either. I like to cast emotion nets out for people to walk into, and since they can't see me, they don't know the feelings aren't natural! Oh, oh, wait, or I like to put nasty little urges into their minds that they can't help but scratch! Or, this one's fantastic, I mess with their dreams if they're foolish enough to lay around snoozing where I can reach them. Ha-ha!
- J E R K ?
. . . Je--what? Where did that come from? I'm not a jerk! I don't cause harm to anyone. I've never damaged another soul, I swear it! It's just a bit of mischief, a spot of entertainment, there's no malicious intent behind it. If there were, surely the gods would have stopped me. Not that I'm particularly religious. No god would have allowed me to go on without my manhood, then placed a bunch of foals around me, frolicking with their ignorant, innocent eyes and their annoying laughter.
- M I S O P E D I A C ?
. . . How could I not hate kids? They're manifestations of my own shame. They're symbols of my inability and emblems of my failure. Also, they laugh too much. Who laughs that much? Someone who's not up to any good, that's who. Sure, I'll occasionally find a foal to pretend is my own, just for a bit. It's not stealing, it's borrowing. Just for a few hours, to make believe, to play pretend. I always make sure they're returned properly, don't worry.
S I L E N C E !
. . . I knew I said too much. You're staring at me with that face again. The one that is halfway between running and attacking. I promise, I'm not insane, or twisted, or... I mean, I'm normal. I am. I'm normal. There's nothing wrong with me. I get bored sometimes, but who doesn't? I told you that this wouldn't help you at all, you still don't know me, you don't understand me. The words have fallen short and left you with an inaccurate impression. Just hear me out, a little bit longer. Hear what I've been through, why I am who I am. Then you can do what your face promises. Run or attack. Flee or punish. Whatever you want. - Likes:
- Rhymes
. . . Words are all we have to communicate. We can't just hook up each other's brains to one another and truly convey what we want. We're stunted, limited, forced to rely on language to get the message across. So... why not make it pretty?
- Flirtation
. . . I'm not a big fan of "the chase." I know it's supposedly the pull behind all flirtation, but not with me. I like responses to my advances, and positive ones! I may persist briefly, but too much rejection leads only to my silence.
- Spying
. . . We've already gone over this. Moving on.
- Names
. . . I collect names. They're beautiful. They are your entire identity. I have a huge hoard of them, and I often steal names I hear. If I meet someone whose name I like, I'll use it with the next horse I come across. But not always; my favorite will always be concocting my own new dubbing. I generally come up with my names on the spot, based on my mood, the environment, my companion, and other elements. Sometimes it's elaborate, sometimes simple. Who else can say they're known by hundreds of names in only one lifetime?
- New Encounters
. . . Each new meeting means another chance to design a name, to hear a name, to weave a web. I don't like old encounters. Where you see someone you've already met. I recycle horses and faces. If it were up to me, I'd never again see a horse I've already met. I'd only ever meet new ones.
- Clouds
. . . How wonderful it must be to see everything, always, and to be able to block the most dominant and important thing in this world--the sun. Sure, they're often hated by those who prefer a bright day, but who cares? They're beautiful, powerful, and omnipresent.
- Sunrise
. . . Every sunrise is a new day, a new chance to meet someone, form a memory. We don't get much in life. We get a bunch of meaningless things. We get objects, things that we can't take with us when we die. The one thing we keep, the only thing, is our reputation, our legend. The more I meet, the more of me lives.
[/li][li] Dislikes:
- Reproduction
. . . It's not that I dislike its existence, it's that I dislike its existence without me. It's like this whole other world I get to watch but not take part in. It mocks me. Haunts me. [/color]
- Foals
. . . Untrustworthy, aggravating, loud, disruptive, naive little monsters.[/color]
- Stallions
. . . Not all stallions. I don't hate males on principle. It's not their fault that they have what I don't. It's the ones with the... y'know, blatant manhood. The ones with tons of mates, or tons of kids, or other... obvious physical attributes. [/color]
- Confrontation
. . . I don't mean fighting, oh, no. I can fight. I mean when Idiot #1 and #2 meet each other and realize I'm not who I say I am. Or, even worse, when I come across someone who has found out I, ahem, borrowed their name... or foal. [/color]
- Walking
. . . It's ironic, the one who once raced for life now loathes the slightest movement, the slowest gait. But, you see, it's this damned limp. There's a pronounced hitch in my walk that's both painful and embarrassing. If I just stand still, I can pretend it isn't there.[/color]
- Sunset
. . . No one is out at night. They're all asleep. That means I don't get to meet anyone, and all those hours go to waste. Hours that I could be continuing my legacy! Sunset is a thief.[/color]
[/li][li] History:
- Birth
. . . I was born in money. My sire and dam were of notable reputation, with fantastic careers and bloodlines. I was an expensive buy on my owner's part. He invested a lot to get me birthed. Once I was out, though, he felt the disappointment of failure. I was all wrong. My body did not have the beautiful conformation of my predecessors. I did not have the deep chest, large nostrils, strong cannon bones, and other features they deemed me worthless for missing. Immediately they knew my darkened future, but they attempted to repaint my horizon with brighter colors. They trained me too early, hoping a quick start would give me more time to prepare and thus disprove what they all knew. It destroyed the last shred of potential I might have retained. In all my hollow glory, they named me No Name, denying me even a sense of identity. [/color]
- Racing
. . . My racing career was short-lived, but I did as disastrous as they'd predicted. I did my best. I practiced whenever they let me into the pasture, making endless circles. So many circles. My life can be traced in circles. I worked hard for muscle tone, for preparation, for mental solidity. Every race, I battled for the front, and every time I witnessed only the back. Other racehorses thrashed at me whenever my owner was careless enough to allow them close enough. The harassment often resulted in forfeit of races due to, y'know, chunks of me missing. Bastard. They trained me often, in long spurts, and my muscles grew weakened from stress and constant use. The only one surprised that I ended the way I did was my owner--that is, halfway through a race, I landed on my face and jockey, my leg mangled beneath me. Needless to say, I was retired. [/color]
- Stud
. . . Hoping to regain some of the money lost on me, they made me a stud, raising my stud fee to unimaginable heights. They hoped my bloodlines would be worth more than the penny they considered me. As usual, they were proved wrong again. Perhaps it is not I who is the fool, but them, for it wasn't my predictions that constantly failed. After years without a single interested party, my horrendous record deterring any who happened to look, my owner lost any hope that once burned. He gelded me and left me in the pastures, evermore doomed to graze my life away. [/color]
- Escape
. . . It was at this time fortune finally found favor with me. In the distant land of Metaphysical, a war raged, and in the midst of battle, a Celadonian Magistrate made a portal to banish a foe through. As the exile appeared before me, a shimmering mirage of beauty glimmered behind him. I saw the clash of blood and the pure power through that window, and, in a state of utter hypnosis, I leaned forward to touch it. Just as the exiled opponent lunged to return to Metaphysical, he slipped, sprawling into me and sending me through the void. Curiosity led to distress as it closed behind me, leaving behind the rightful native where my torture was intended. [/color]
- Reborn
. . . Granted a new life and a future more than nothing, I whispered my new name to myself, a name I had conceived, that no one else would ever hear, and stepped forward to take on this rebirth. I am alive. Every day, I live. I live everywhere. I breathe everything. This is something on one can ever take away from me, even when I have been stripped of manhood, of identity, and of meaning. [/color]
- Present
. . . Now, I meet any I can. Upon stepping onto Metaphysical soil, I gained the power of three Colonies, giving me the bit of renown I had always craved. It tasted delicious. Added to that, my plain bay coat transformed into the exotic adornment it is now, removing me further from the plain standard I once laid below. The only scar remaining from my past is the glitch in my walk, the painful tremor in my leg, and the slightest grimace in my eyes. [/color]
[/li][li] Goal: To live, to love, and to never leave
. . . I have been given a second chance. With it, I want to meet every horse I can. I want to learn every name. I want to spread my legacy, cement my impact on this magical land. I want to breathe in every morning and close my eyes every night. I want to watch the clouds overhead, and hear the voices of beautiful mares. I want to flirt, and fall in love, and have a heart meant just for me. I want to be... simply me. [/color]
[/li][li] Other:
[/size]
[/li][/ul]
[/color][/td][/tr][/table][/center][/div]
