. Begin Your Journey .: your halo's slippin' down...

about her:
name: circlet
age: newly-minted four
breed: appendix quarter horse
gender: female
strength: kind and reliable; dependable and trustworthy; not prone to anger and very hard to ruffle once she knows you (although she will always remain easy to scare)
weakness: cripplingly shy and skittish, intensely dislikes conflict of any sort
minor objective: make a friend
major objective: become an apprentice
kingdom preference: n/a, any is fine
intended class: scholar

sample:
the young mare fled.

fled wouldn't perhaps be the right word, although, in a sense, it was. she was racing across the ground as fast as her legs would carry her, and in that sense, yes, there was perhaps some fleeing.

there was also an absurd acrobatic talent involved with this. we could perhaps reclassify it bouncing? perhaps, even, should we dare call it romping? it certainly didn't have a playful attitude, though--the bucking and twisting was too frantic, the head-tossing too drastic.

the white of her eyes stood out even against her pale grey form, and she twisted her lithe form into yet another air above the ground. this one didn't have a fancy name: mayhaps we'll dub it "flailing."

the panic was apparent, and watching her, one could only imagine the thoughts. was she insane? one could suspect so. in pain? hmm, but no one sane would do such acrobatics while suffering from physical ailments, would they? perhaps she was just putting on a show? ahh, the thought was too crazy to entertain, or to even consider inviting in for tea.

the lanky mare would've never put her mind to such speculation. there was only one thing that mattered to her right now, there was one thing that her focus, nay, her very life, was entwined in so tightly that it would not be let go until the situation was resolved.

she was determined, very strongly, to outrun this, to conquer the situation with distance. no one ever told her you couldn't outrun fear, no matter what stamina, no matter what speed.

frankly, it's unlikely she'd believe anyone who told her this. escape being just another trap of a choice? preposterous.

but...

she stopped. she landed, planted her hooves in the soft soil, and heaved a long sigh. she flipped her forelock, and was satisfied. the twig was gone, no longer flitting in and out of her sight like some sort of horrible monster claw, seeking to devour her from the eyes outward.

eyes are important, you know. and very tasty to monsters.

and of course you can always outrun monsters, if you are as fast as she. as capable as she. as experienced at this 'fleeing' nonsense.

no one could tell her otherwise. after all: it had always worked before...

the mare flicked a playful buck and started off at a leisurely trot, each step as deliberate and measured as the last, settling into a contented rhythm, off to...

somewhere.

that was good enough for her.

about me:
alias: abstract
miscellaneous: I really have no problem with capital letters, I'm just feeling very... lowercase with this character. Just in case my quirkiness is particularly... quirky. :)