Post by nightlily on Jul 5, 2008 21:41:27 GMT -5
Name: Vanity Unbidden
Gender: Stallion/Male
Age: 8 Years old
Colour: His inky black coat has a dark, brown sheen to it which only shows in the harshest of lights. His hooves are a gleaming black and his tail falls towards the ground, just brushing it. His mane falls against his shoulder, falling down the left side of his neck(Side when mounted).
Height: 14.5 Hands
Breed: Pure Azteca
Personality: His mind swims with feelings of darkness to spraying foutains of light. He is undiscovered in Dreaver for his darker thoughts and his light-made heart. For a long while his mind was lost in the darkness, until he met someone who lifted his heart.
Alliance: {light, neutral, or dark}
History: Long ago in a far away land, dominated by Deserts and harsh winds, young Vanity found his life beginning.
A fine layering of dust and sand coated the foal's still wet hair, cloaking his inky black color and making him blend in with the shifting dunes. His slender muzzle slipped beneath his Brown Mother's stifle to feed himself. As he pulled away, his lips were coated in sweet, warm milk, one of the few happy memories he had with his mother. Far off to the right, a herd of about seven mares stood and rested while on a nearby dune a tall looking, grey Stallion stood watch over the herd, Vanity's father.
------
Vanity shook his head, willing these flashing memories to stop the throbbing beneath his brow. How had it come to remembering his life form the beginning? Oh yes, he had stopped to rest. "How foolish." he sighed to himself before his dark eyes closed and he allowed more memories to flood his empty mind.
------
When his mind stopped reeling, Vanity found himself still a young colt, trotting happily beside his mother and flicking his short, black tail aimlessly. He let out a short bleat of protest as his mother began to canter, his spindly legs having to pump harder through the weighing sand to keep up with her.
"Run Vanity, run as fast as you can!" his mother called, her eyes wild and wide, glassy with the reflection of cloaked men on horseback. One held bridles, as he came to know them, while the others held ropes. Most of the herd, including Vanity and his mother, were taken by the Arabic men.
---------
Vanity's throat constricted at the tight feeling of the imaginary ropes, his eyes fighting to widen while his muzzle opened with silent screams of protest. His fragile neck rubbed nearly raw, though his now thick neck feeling like pins and needles wrapping around his neck.
-----------
Several months passed by when Vanity found his thoughts slowing down, a rope-made bridle confining his delicate face, with the lead rope held by slender delicate hands of a young woman in robes. "Come on Kliuda." she crooned, her human words barely intelligible to him in his young mind. He let out a bleat for his mother, but the mare the human was riding did nothing but nicker a few claming, foreign words. "Mother!" he cried again, yet this time no one responded to his bleats. His small hooves drummed on wood as he moved from sand to gangplank, traveling for the desert to he ocean.
For many weeks, he and several others were in the hold of a large Galleon, the pitch and sway telling them this. For weeks he lay on the floor of his small stall, shared with the mare he had been lead next to. He grew sick, but the mare helped him through it, her words and tones still foreign to his ears, but motherly none the less.
When they were free of the ship, he became lost in a sea of legs and an array of coats, a group of horses encircling him, his herd. "We shall protect you Prince Vanity." one mare nickered while the others said similar things. They broke through the lines of hustlers and buyers to head for the freedom of the green hills far beyond. Several mares were recaptured, but most of them made it free, including the Prince.
-------
His eyes widened and his chest puffed out as he relived that moment, of protection and his final time with the mares of his father's herd. His legs shook beneath him as he stood, a light, salty sweat lacing his coat.
--------
His thoughts raced once more and he found himself racing, alone, through large green fields near a grove, his eyes wide and wild, now almost a permanent expression on his face. The earth rumbled and buckled beneath him as he leapt, the grey Draft easily catching up to him. His mind was painted red and his retinas reflected the scarlet blood that bathed the trees and grass. The mares, all of the mares were gone, every one of them falling before the hulking hooves of the Draft that now followed him. "Colt, stop." Titan, as he would come to see him as, commanded." Come with me and you shall live a good life." he bellowed. Vanity shook and shivered as his little hooves danced up and down, nodding his head vigorously. With that the Draft began to pound off, slowing some so that Vanity could keep up. As they raced onto open ground, his dark eyes met the glimmering ones of a young filly, her eyes locked on his as they ran.
--------
That memory brought him some happiness and calm, his first meeting of Champagne, the filly that would soon become the one he loved. He hadn't known it then, merely surprised by her odd coat, having never seen something so odd in the Deserts.
---------
His mind reeled as he found himself struggling up the mountain pass, dodging Titan's massive hindquarters as he seeked the flat ground where he flopped down, his head resting against Champagne's rump while she did the same, the two curling up to rest. Their peace and rest was interrupted by the arrival of a red colt, Vanity leaping up at the familiar sound of pounding hooves. "Rustlers." he grumbled and stayed with Titan, his escape route blocked off already by the hulking stallion. He bleated angrily and began to thrash as ropes tightened around his neck, his last sight before rough dirt was Champagne's black stockings melting with the red legs of the mysterious colt.
----------
Vanity coughed as the familiar feeling of ropes tightening around his neck, an almost constant feel as the wide, wild expression on his face was. Again, the memories of his imprisonment flooded him.
----------
He only remembered stalls, wooden paneling and his maturity coming to a crescendo as he slipped into his four year old stage, at horse breeding maturity. He was whipped and urged to breed with the many mares, but he refused, his eyes wild and his haunches always bunching and slamming into the panels. He was annoyed with these humans, but at least he was fed. He had lost sight of Titan long ago, the mammoth sized Draft's poll no longer visible over the edge of his stall.
For days, weeks maybe, the Azteca stood in his stall, eating, drinking, and planning his escape for when that time will come. The time did come, sooner than Vanity had ever thought.
"Hey, kid. Over here." a raspy voice called to his right. Vanity looked over and was greeted by the sight of a bald-faced stallion, the hair around his eyes gone and leaving pink skin.
"What?"
"Lets get outta here..."
"Why?"
"I can see it in your eyes... You want outta here."
"What if I do? Why would you help me?"
"Cause I want out too..."
Vanity shook his head roughly and kicked the Stallion's stall, the sound thrumming through the air and fading into silence.
----------
Vanity shook his head, the thrumming feeling of the bending boards beneath his stable hooves. A smile lifted his muzzle as he remembered the way the boards had split and his hulking figure leaping through the hole, dodging through outstretched hands and yelling men.
-----------
His mind fast forwarded to a time when he was galloping, following aimless direction that he had heard form a red stallion, one that he didn't realize matched the red colt's description. he was bent on finding the buckskin mare he so longed and dreamed of.
Their reunion was one of great proportions, resulting in the blissful formation of a young foal, turning out to be a colt. When Champagne returned to his side, Vanity could barely keep his eyes from the beautiful animal, having his mother's Dun baby coat, but his own dark eyes.
------------
Vanity sighed and shook his head, thundering off after Champagne and Chaos, his large hooves quaking the earth beneath him while his mane and tail flying like waving banners of shadows.
Picture:
Gender: Stallion/Male
Age: 8 Years old
Colour: His inky black coat has a dark, brown sheen to it which only shows in the harshest of lights. His hooves are a gleaming black and his tail falls towards the ground, just brushing it. His mane falls against his shoulder, falling down the left side of his neck(Side when mounted).
Height: 14.5 Hands
Breed: Pure Azteca
Personality: His mind swims with feelings of darkness to spraying foutains of light. He is undiscovered in Dreaver for his darker thoughts and his light-made heart. For a long while his mind was lost in the darkness, until he met someone who lifted his heart.
Alliance: {light, neutral, or dark}
History: Long ago in a far away land, dominated by Deserts and harsh winds, young Vanity found his life beginning.
A fine layering of dust and sand coated the foal's still wet hair, cloaking his inky black color and making him blend in with the shifting dunes. His slender muzzle slipped beneath his Brown Mother's stifle to feed himself. As he pulled away, his lips were coated in sweet, warm milk, one of the few happy memories he had with his mother. Far off to the right, a herd of about seven mares stood and rested while on a nearby dune a tall looking, grey Stallion stood watch over the herd, Vanity's father.
------
Vanity shook his head, willing these flashing memories to stop the throbbing beneath his brow. How had it come to remembering his life form the beginning? Oh yes, he had stopped to rest. "How foolish." he sighed to himself before his dark eyes closed and he allowed more memories to flood his empty mind.
------
When his mind stopped reeling, Vanity found himself still a young colt, trotting happily beside his mother and flicking his short, black tail aimlessly. He let out a short bleat of protest as his mother began to canter, his spindly legs having to pump harder through the weighing sand to keep up with her.
"Run Vanity, run as fast as you can!" his mother called, her eyes wild and wide, glassy with the reflection of cloaked men on horseback. One held bridles, as he came to know them, while the others held ropes. Most of the herd, including Vanity and his mother, were taken by the Arabic men.
---------
Vanity's throat constricted at the tight feeling of the imaginary ropes, his eyes fighting to widen while his muzzle opened with silent screams of protest. His fragile neck rubbed nearly raw, though his now thick neck feeling like pins and needles wrapping around his neck.
-----------
Several months passed by when Vanity found his thoughts slowing down, a rope-made bridle confining his delicate face, with the lead rope held by slender delicate hands of a young woman in robes. "Come on Kliuda." she crooned, her human words barely intelligible to him in his young mind. He let out a bleat for his mother, but the mare the human was riding did nothing but nicker a few claming, foreign words. "Mother!" he cried again, yet this time no one responded to his bleats. His small hooves drummed on wood as he moved from sand to gangplank, traveling for the desert to he ocean.
For many weeks, he and several others were in the hold of a large Galleon, the pitch and sway telling them this. For weeks he lay on the floor of his small stall, shared with the mare he had been lead next to. He grew sick, but the mare helped him through it, her words and tones still foreign to his ears, but motherly none the less.
When they were free of the ship, he became lost in a sea of legs and an array of coats, a group of horses encircling him, his herd. "We shall protect you Prince Vanity." one mare nickered while the others said similar things. They broke through the lines of hustlers and buyers to head for the freedom of the green hills far beyond. Several mares were recaptured, but most of them made it free, including the Prince.
-------
His eyes widened and his chest puffed out as he relived that moment, of protection and his final time with the mares of his father's herd. His legs shook beneath him as he stood, a light, salty sweat lacing his coat.
--------
His thoughts raced once more and he found himself racing, alone, through large green fields near a grove, his eyes wide and wild, now almost a permanent expression on his face. The earth rumbled and buckled beneath him as he leapt, the grey Draft easily catching up to him. His mind was painted red and his retinas reflected the scarlet blood that bathed the trees and grass. The mares, all of the mares were gone, every one of them falling before the hulking hooves of the Draft that now followed him. "Colt, stop." Titan, as he would come to see him as, commanded." Come with me and you shall live a good life." he bellowed. Vanity shook and shivered as his little hooves danced up and down, nodding his head vigorously. With that the Draft began to pound off, slowing some so that Vanity could keep up. As they raced onto open ground, his dark eyes met the glimmering ones of a young filly, her eyes locked on his as they ran.
--------
That memory brought him some happiness and calm, his first meeting of Champagne, the filly that would soon become the one he loved. He hadn't known it then, merely surprised by her odd coat, having never seen something so odd in the Deserts.
---------
His mind reeled as he found himself struggling up the mountain pass, dodging Titan's massive hindquarters as he seeked the flat ground where he flopped down, his head resting against Champagne's rump while she did the same, the two curling up to rest. Their peace and rest was interrupted by the arrival of a red colt, Vanity leaping up at the familiar sound of pounding hooves. "Rustlers." he grumbled and stayed with Titan, his escape route blocked off already by the hulking stallion. He bleated angrily and began to thrash as ropes tightened around his neck, his last sight before rough dirt was Champagne's black stockings melting with the red legs of the mysterious colt.
----------
Vanity coughed as the familiar feeling of ropes tightening around his neck, an almost constant feel as the wide, wild expression on his face was. Again, the memories of his imprisonment flooded him.
----------
He only remembered stalls, wooden paneling and his maturity coming to a crescendo as he slipped into his four year old stage, at horse breeding maturity. He was whipped and urged to breed with the many mares, but he refused, his eyes wild and his haunches always bunching and slamming into the panels. He was annoyed with these humans, but at least he was fed. He had lost sight of Titan long ago, the mammoth sized Draft's poll no longer visible over the edge of his stall.
For days, weeks maybe, the Azteca stood in his stall, eating, drinking, and planning his escape for when that time will come. The time did come, sooner than Vanity had ever thought.
"Hey, kid. Over here." a raspy voice called to his right. Vanity looked over and was greeted by the sight of a bald-faced stallion, the hair around his eyes gone and leaving pink skin.
"What?"
"Lets get outta here..."
"Why?"
"I can see it in your eyes... You want outta here."
"What if I do? Why would you help me?"
"Cause I want out too..."
Vanity shook his head roughly and kicked the Stallion's stall, the sound thrumming through the air and fading into silence.
----------
Vanity shook his head, the thrumming feeling of the bending boards beneath his stable hooves. A smile lifted his muzzle as he remembered the way the boards had split and his hulking figure leaping through the hole, dodging through outstretched hands and yelling men.
-----------
His mind fast forwarded to a time when he was galloping, following aimless direction that he had heard form a red stallion, one that he didn't realize matched the red colt's description. he was bent on finding the buckskin mare he so longed and dreamed of.
Their reunion was one of great proportions, resulting in the blissful formation of a young foal, turning out to be a colt. When Champagne returned to his side, Vanity could barely keep his eyes from the beautiful animal, having his mother's Dun baby coat, but his own dark eyes.
------------
Vanity sighed and shook his head, thundering off after Champagne and Chaos, his large hooves quaking the earth beneath him while his mane and tail flying like waving banners of shadows.
Picture:
