Posted by * aitvaras on June 28, 2008, 10:54 pm
64.141.119.238
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Can you tell sense from insanity?
Age . 7
Breed . Feral Mutt
Gender . Female
Strength . Self confidence.
Weakness . Blind in her right eye.
Minor objective . Win a battle
Major objective . Learn to love
Harem preference . Ni'Srilan
Intended class . Warrior
OOC Alias . Blaire
Contact . the_dark_muse@hotmail.com
Example post:
I was born a phoenix.
Or at least that is what I have been led to believe for the entirety of my life. They say that at birth I rose, ethereal, gold and glowing, from the broken body of my dying mother. I blazed my way into this world, the embodiment of life and vitality, risen from amongst the ashes of something that was once bright and beautiful. The heavens themselves sang my praises and trumpets blared triumphantly in the distance. I was what my mother could have been (or rather, should have been) before she became sullied and broken by the irremediable calamities that fill this world. She is me and I am her, our seemingly separate identities inextricably entwined by the ever turning wheel of time.
That is how my father used to speak of the day I was born, at least, and I am certain that he glorified it (perhaps in a futile attempt at guarding my vanity), but I can clearly envision the probable realities of that fateful morning in my head. Myself, a pathetic blood soaked and bleating infant, callously discarded on the ground, my newborn ears filled with the broken sobs of my father as he desperately bade farewell to the only creature that he had ever loved. I also fancy I can see those beautiful, expressive eyes that are were my mother’s legacy fading slowly away into a distant darkness, leaving in their wake nothing more than mirrored glass. Whenever I think of her, I see only her eyes... and consequently, I know what it feels like to die.
Once I had been possessed of my mother’s breathtaking eyes, a pair of soft communicative pools that were like an unguarded gateway into the deepest depths of my soul. They were my sole link to her, the only marked similarity that existed between our appearances, for my mother had hardly been a beautiful creature (or at least, that was the general consensus of the rest of the members of my father’s cadre). I lost those eyes long ago. My right eye has now taken on the opaque, milky sheen of blindness, and the other is as hard as a polished, obsidian opal. Potential suitors will find no emotions betrayed within my eyes, well hidden beneath a delicate fan of black eyelashes, for they have taken on all the subversive qualities of ice. In the past I have often been called cold hearted, for I have very little tolerance for the weak and the lazy. Such individual’s gnaw at me, much like small aggravating rodents, until I lash out with a finely sharpened tongue (or hooves and teeth, should the need arise). They never take my aspersions to heart of course, pathetic beings that they are, instead continuing on with their languid existence that I can only pray will be mercifully short. I cannot help but shudder when I think of such creatures living long enough to reproduce. Only those possessed of even a remote shred of intelligence will find my company amenable, and even then, it will take a long time to breach the thick shroud of my detachment. For those who do, I am a devout ally, but for those who should chose to cross me, I am a foe to be reckoned with.
I am no longer my mother’s daughter, a shrewd fact that can be easily ascertained from the most fleeting of glances… in fact, maybe I never was. My hips sway sensuously as I stride lackadaisically through the emerald green grass of Hopeful Plains, unburdened by the pain and sorrow that had lingered, omnipresent, throughout the majority of her short life. Despite the blemish that resulted in my blindness, a thin scar that runs from my brow down to the base of my cheekbone, I am possessed of an outer beauty that had eluded my mother. It is beauty that is not solely reliant on my exterior either. Instead, it radiates from within, much like a lucid haze. Perhaps it is the proud arch to my neck or the purposeful length of my stride that has enraptured so many and has drawn many an errant gaze, or perhaps it is an allure derived from something much less tangible. I have been traveling since dawn, through this land that is to be my chosen home, searching for something that will bring my insofar fruitless journey to a close. This realm is newly born and like most newborns, it continues to flounder. Signs that alert me to the presence of other equine are scattered and far between, yet I continue to follow them like a trail laid down in stone. As I pause, gazing pensively into the distance, I know with unwavering certainty that I will not be alone for long.
I am a phoenix no longer. No, now I am a dragon.
beneath the surface, a dragon dwells
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