Post by Smoky on Sept 26, 2010 21:36:55 GMT -7
Skeleton Key
Obsessed, Depressed at the same time
I can't even walk in a straight line
I been lie'n in the dark, no sunshine
When I look into your eyes
You're not even there
It's just a feelin' that I have
---Mixed Lines from Just A Feeling by Maroon 5
Obsessed, Depressed at the same time
I can't even walk in a straight line
I been lie'n in the dark, no sunshine
When I look into your eyes
You're not even there
It's just a feelin' that I have
---Mixed Lines from Just A Feeling by Maroon 5
General
Name: Skeleton Key
Nickname: "Skeleton"
Age: Six
Gender: Stallion
Breed: Andalusian
Alliance: Spirit
Description
Mane: beige
Tail: beige fading into browns
Body: golden
Eyes: light grey
Markings: a blaze down his face; four white socks
Height: 16.1 hh
Overall: Skeleton is a unique coat shade, that in dark appears so light that you'd think it was ghostly white, but in the sunshine is as bright as a chunk of gold. He's got a long mane and tail, and a forelock that gets in the way of seeing his deep grey eyes. He's got a strongly Spanish build, with solid legs and good sized hooves of a light grey color. A blaze streaks down his face , and white goes up his leg until just above the fetlock.
Personality
Likes: Sunrise:Another day is something to rejoice with the current state of mind towards my kind.
the feeling of the wind playing with his hair: I just like the ebb and flow. It reminds me of the ocean
the calm before the storm:It's a time I can actually think
Talking to the spirits of creatures, especially the dragons when they can be found: Except they know more then they ever say!
Heart Mares: No one knows love better
Dislikes: Being Challenged: Really, go find someone else to pester... Please
Being Asked "Can you really see the dead?!": Yes folks, we've established this about the spirit race
When A Spirit Demands To Be Crossed: I get it, you want help. Yes I'll help you, but let me finish what I'm doing, and quit bugging me about it! I already said yes!
Extremely Young Foals: They aren't old enough to reason yet. Reason is key to life.
Fears:
Death: It's one thing to communicate with it, quite another to deal with it first hand.
The Divine: The thought of something more powerful then oneself may help others, but it only messes with my mind. Sure, they gave us the powers, but now they can play with us in any way they wish. I don't like being the mouse to the cat.
Secrets: Death: I've been there, done that. Mum found some poor sap of a heart horse and managed to resurrect me. I was three at the time, and the heart horse died. I never forgave mom for that.
Overall:A complex being, Skeleton is ruled by what he thinks is right... which isn't necessarily what he should be listening to. He has a large fear of the divine and their rights, as well as death and the feeling that it gave him. He would have adapted, he's sure, but having been there and back scares the shit outta him, and he's not sure he could take the occasion again. He'd do anything to avoid going back.
History
History: The first year of Skeleton's life was spent in the normal ways-frolicking and sparring as all young colts do. Only a few major events occurred during the period. His parents went their separate ways, his older sister vanished, and he and his mother changed herds. None of this had a huge impact on the young colt, as he was too focused on life being good. He was young, the sky was still blue, and he was free to be himself.
The second year had a much bigger impact on him. Powers came in to play, and weird glances were cast his way as his element became clear. The colt's affinity was for that of Spirit, and this caused great unease with the members of his current Earth herd. He moved on to the realm of Spirit. He took up residence in Camelot- the most appealing of the areas for the wandering dragons, who he spent the rest of the year attempting to befriend. Talking to the deceased occupied whatever of his time was left, and he enjoyed that.
His third year was the most disturbing of them, and contains the shadowy secret of his history. He died. It is an event he prefers not to discuss, though long story short, he bit off more than he could chew with the creatures of Camelot and passed on into the realm with which he used to converse. Used to walking it's plains, the realm of the deceased still bothered him, and when his mother caught word of the situation she roped two too nice, not too bright Spirit and Heart mares into helping to bring back her son. The resurrection killed the Heart mare, and broke the mind of the Spirit mare. Skeleton knew it was something that should not have been done, for it ruined the lives of two, where his death had only ruined his own. He never forgave his mother for the event.
His fourth and fifth years were mostly uneventful. He continued conversing with the other realm, now with a very healthy respect for it. His life was haunted by his secret and his fears. The divine could play with his life in any way they wanted, even sending him back to his second fear, Death. The dragons continued to converse with him, on occasion annoying him with the little they'd say each time he talked with them. He became good at games of riddles, because the dragons insisted on playing them in return for information.
Family Members:
Mother: Unknown; Earth Mare
Father: Unkown
Siblings: Older Sister-Unknown whereabouts
Other
Your Name: Why I'm Smoky of course
Your Age:
I continue to be as old as I need to beYour Gender: Female
Other Characters: : x None! Don't tattle on me!
How you found us: xD erm... you?
What do you think of DE so far?: xD Haven't I made it clear already?
Ideal companion for character: xD Okay, quite obviously I'd say I think he should get a dragon, but that'd be way to big unless it was a baby. And babies tend not to stay babies for long. o.o I think a doberman would fit him well otherwise.. x3 But that's just me. xD And ultimately of course, the decision rests with you... Choose wisely for him will ya
Rp Sample:
Sorry, the colors and areas didn't transfer well. x3 I hope you're good at figuring out words, thoughts, and posts from a glompy mess. From a post made at The Secret with Acolmiztli.:
Stereotypical was the opposite of the colt. Alcomiztli, at only a year old, already stood a good fifteen and a half hands high, expecting to gain the rest of his height in the next year. By two, the boy knew he would stand seventeen hands, on the brink of being a Northern giant, but never making it quite that far. He liked that though, for being "a northern giant" was a stereotype of the North, and the colt didn't want to fit in with that. He was his own being, one who at the moment was filled with rage How could his parents be so much fonder of this, this mess of a girl than of him? The girl may have the height advantage on him at the moment, but it wasn't by much, and he wasn't afraid of that thought. He had inherited few things from his parents. It angered him even more to think that he had picked up the same sorts of things as this his half sister. She too wore the painted pattern that graced Arion's hide, but her color was not his. She too wore a pattern of browns, like her brother's flaming coppery brown coat. His color, though, was not his mother's nor his fathers. It was unique, flaming, bright. Again, the colt went against what was expected of Northern horses. His coloring was not dark, but as shining and bright as the happy-go-lucky southern idiots that bore the title "stallion." He glared at his parents, watching his father wrap his mother in an equine version of a hug. Both so happy with themselves. Got he couldn't stand them. Both so freakishly Northern, both so proud of having a child that's rabid to rip something apart. Good lord they sicken me. Apollo should lend me a few lighting bolts so I can dispose of them and never have to deal with it again. This as a family? I better have a spot in heaven, cuz living with them is more penance then one horse, good or bad, should ever have to pay. Then again, such thoughts raise the question in our minds, is Alco good or bad? He wouldn't be bad, because that would be stereotypical. He wouldn't be good because that would be Southern. No, Alcomiztli is alone, in one of those grey areas. He's done a good deed or two, a bad deed or two, but mostly he is aligned with the wishes of the higher-ups. Not good, Nor bad, Nor Loyalist, Nor non, but simply there to serve the wishes of the North. How many Northern studs do you know that exist only to do that?
When his father reached out to touch nares with the colt, he considered biting the studs lip. How dare he think that he could convince the colt of care with a few scattered words, comprised of his name and his title. He was sure that his sire assumed that they were mirror images of each other, Alcomiztli just many many many years his younger. This, however, was quite untrue. Arion was happy to be part of the mess that was the current Northern state. Alcomiztli wasn't in the least part of that. He disliked the lack of order, and the studs going south to breed for pleasure with weak mares who would give birth to even weaker foals. They would bring down the North from the inside with their lack of strength. The North was sending itself along the path of destruction without even needing the south to help them upon their way. Just pathetic. Their only advantage was that the South cared even less what kind of stock went into their children. Ponies for gods sake. He snorted in amusement. He couldn't help himself. They simply couldn't quite get it that height was important in a fight. Not everything, he knew, but important as it let one get an easier advantage.
Still, as he crested through his second rear, the annoyance flashed back, as Arion ordered his sister in what to do. His mouth opened in a snarl, disgust lingering there. Offering the girl advice of course. She turned around, cornets and hooves launching sky high, towards his belly. She wasn't the only one who knew what to do, and at least he didn't have to take cues from the parents watching, one proudly, one with disgust. He could have laughed. This what you expected to come of this mom? Your darling rabid child, ready to tear his sister into no longer existing shreds of meat and skin. Then what would be left? Nothing but matter, and matter is what matters. Ah, playing with words, so much fun, but there's things that must be attended to first. I have to kill her before she can be scattered by the four winds. As she threw her hind end skyward towards his belly, he twisted away from them, spinning, and coming down, with her hinds flying inches from his rump. He turned to face the challenge, eyes focused on her, not seeing anything else around. He saw no need to play around with this girl, none at all. His surroundings were unimportant, distracting at the moment. This interested Arion too much, he knew, for the older stallion to intervene, and his mother would keep her eyes open for anything else that might attempt to disrupt the fight. His parents, good god, he couldn't get over it. This entire family disgusted him so much. Her eyes mirrored his, except for the part where hers were as dark as Arions. His were lighter, brighter, but still possessed the same look. One of the few things this family could share, it seemed. He began to move forward, one step at a time, like a cat stalking it's prey. His mouth was open, prepared to strike or parry. First movement dealt with, it was hardly his right any longer.Ladies first Sis. He figured he'd call her that from now on. After all, wouldn't he be annoyed out of his mind if she called him bro? He waited, eyes watching ever twitch of her skin, waiting for any little signal that would let him know that she was coming. It wasn't rocket science, any idiot could fight. Including her. Not that that necisarrily means she can fight well but...
When his father reached out to touch nares with the colt, he considered biting the studs lip. How dare he think that he could convince the colt of care with a few scattered words, comprised of his name and his title. He was sure that his sire assumed that they were mirror images of each other, Alcomiztli just many many many years his younger. This, however, was quite untrue. Arion was happy to be part of the mess that was the current Northern state. Alcomiztli wasn't in the least part of that. He disliked the lack of order, and the studs going south to breed for pleasure with weak mares who would give birth to even weaker foals. They would bring down the North from the inside with their lack of strength. The North was sending itself along the path of destruction without even needing the south to help them upon their way. Just pathetic. Their only advantage was that the South cared even less what kind of stock went into their children. Ponies for gods sake. He snorted in amusement. He couldn't help himself. They simply couldn't quite get it that height was important in a fight. Not everything, he knew, but important as it let one get an easier advantage.
Still, as he crested through his second rear, the annoyance flashed back, as Arion ordered his sister in what to do. His mouth opened in a snarl, disgust lingering there. Offering the girl advice of course. She turned around, cornets and hooves launching sky high, towards his belly. She wasn't the only one who knew what to do, and at least he didn't have to take cues from the parents watching, one proudly, one with disgust. He could have laughed. This what you expected to come of this mom? Your darling rabid child, ready to tear his sister into no longer existing shreds of meat and skin. Then what would be left? Nothing but matter, and matter is what matters. Ah, playing with words, so much fun, but there's things that must be attended to first. I have to kill her before she can be scattered by the four winds. As she threw her hind end skyward towards his belly, he twisted away from them, spinning, and coming down, with her hinds flying inches from his rump. He turned to face the challenge, eyes focused on her, not seeing anything else around. He saw no need to play around with this girl, none at all. His surroundings were unimportant, distracting at the moment. This interested Arion too much, he knew, for the older stallion to intervene, and his mother would keep her eyes open for anything else that might attempt to disrupt the fight. His parents, good god, he couldn't get over it. This entire family disgusted him so much. Her eyes mirrored his, except for the part where hers were as dark as Arions. His were lighter, brighter, but still possessed the same look. One of the few things this family could share, it seemed. He began to move forward, one step at a time, like a cat stalking it's prey. His mouth was open, prepared to strike or parry. First movement dealt with, it was hardly his right any longer.Ladies first Sis. He figured he'd call her that from now on. After all, wouldn't he be annoyed out of his mind if she called him bro? He waited, eyes watching ever twitch of her skin, waiting for any little signal that would let him know that she was coming. It wasn't rocket science, any idiot could fight. Including her. Not that that necisarrily means she can fight well but...
