Post by ~*Dream*~ on Nov 22, 2009 20:41:05 GMT -5
Name: Mourning Glory
Age: Four
Gender: Female
Species: Horse
Breed: Arabian
Colors: While I am not full-blooded all the way back to my first ancestor, both of my parent's were arabian's. There's nothing in my physical features that says anything other than ARABIAN -- as I am the definition. My tail is carried high, my face dipped and my neck wonderfully arched. My eyes and ears are large and my muzzle small. I'm sure-footed and quick, even in the deepest sand. I am taller than most of my breed, at 15 hands. My pelt, while predominantly white, is speckled with dots of brown. Mane is of medium length, a deep gray. Tail is palomino-like, and I have dark points. Eyes are the darkest of browns, to the point of being black.
Personality: I have always been Daddy's good little girl -- to be seen and not heard. I was the one everyone liked, but nobody knew why. Maybe it was my charm, good-looks or just the way I talked. Never once would you hear me insult someone, as I could not hurt even a fly. I listen to those above me in the ranks, while not allowing myself to be lowered to an omega -- I know how to be respected without being a bully. Children adore me, and I make friends with everyone who's willing. In a new place, I can be quiet, but I never stay alone for long -- as I am much too friendly. I don't have a problem walking up to a complete stranger and saying hello. I keep easy conversation without being overly chatty. At the same time, however, I am easily (emotionally) hurt. Anothers meanness can easily bring tears to my eyes. I am easily manipulated, and it takes a lot for me to stand up for someone. I'm a lover, not a fighter.
History: I grew up in a herd with no problems, and knew little of life's harsh ways until I got older. I had an older brother that cared for me and a younger sister I loved to entertain. While my parents loved us all, I always knew I was Daddy's favorite. I loved to run and play along his side, pulling at his mane and playfully nipping his muscular neck -- I felt safe with him. Don't get me wrong, I loved my mother as well, but there was something about being Daddy's Little Girl. I didn't care how he acted towards others, he loved me, what else mattered? Then my brother snapped. Morning dawned and I awoke to my father's blood and my brother missing. But, that was years ago, and I ha ve accepted his death and live on. My dear mother and lovely sister still run with my old herd, but I wander -- searching for a place to call my own.
Password: moose.
Age: Four
Gender: Female
Species: Horse
Breed: Arabian
Colors: While I am not full-blooded all the way back to my first ancestor, both of my parent's were arabian's. There's nothing in my physical features that says anything other than ARABIAN -- as I am the definition. My tail is carried high, my face dipped and my neck wonderfully arched. My eyes and ears are large and my muzzle small. I'm sure-footed and quick, even in the deepest sand. I am taller than most of my breed, at 15 hands. My pelt, while predominantly white, is speckled with dots of brown. Mane is of medium length, a deep gray. Tail is palomino-like, and I have dark points. Eyes are the darkest of browns, to the point of being black.
Personality: I have always been Daddy's good little girl -- to be seen and not heard. I was the one everyone liked, but nobody knew why. Maybe it was my charm, good-looks or just the way I talked. Never once would you hear me insult someone, as I could not hurt even a fly. I listen to those above me in the ranks, while not allowing myself to be lowered to an omega -- I know how to be respected without being a bully. Children adore me, and I make friends with everyone who's willing. In a new place, I can be quiet, but I never stay alone for long -- as I am much too friendly. I don't have a problem walking up to a complete stranger and saying hello. I keep easy conversation without being overly chatty. At the same time, however, I am easily (emotionally) hurt. Anothers meanness can easily bring tears to my eyes. I am easily manipulated, and it takes a lot for me to stand up for someone. I'm a lover, not a fighter.
History: I grew up in a herd with no problems, and knew little of life's harsh ways until I got older. I had an older brother that cared for me and a younger sister I loved to entertain. While my parents loved us all, I always knew I was Daddy's favorite. I loved to run and play along his side, pulling at his mane and playfully nipping his muscular neck -- I felt safe with him. Don't get me wrong, I loved my mother as well, but there was something about being Daddy's Little Girl. I didn't care how he acted towards others, he loved me, what else mattered? Then my brother snapped. Morning dawned and I awoke to my father's blood and my brother missing. But, that was years ago, and I ha ve accepted his death and live on. My dear mother and lovely sister still run with my old herd, but I wander -- searching for a place to call my own.
Password: moose.
